Fic: I'm a Bitch Vampire. Yay.... (Chapter 4)
Title: I'm a Bitch Vampire. Yay....
Chapter: Chapter 4
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, J2 AU
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,000 ish (WIP)
Warning: Vampirism. Bloodplay. Slavery. Dominance. Chad Michael Murray.
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine. This did not happen. And if it did, I wasn't invited.
Summary: Vampire movies? Full of shit. That's what Jared learns when he's forcibly turned and caged, set to be sold into vampire slavery. Turns out, the big bad variety of vampires only feed from other vampires. And little bitch vampires like him? They're sold as walking blood bags and pets. Freshly turned and in the home of his owner, Jared struggles to understand his new nature and his new master. Stockholm Syndrome, anyone?
Jensen's licked my wrist clean and is snuggling into my chest when I lower my chin, hoping-yearning-for a kiss. I hear the purr as he leans in, feel the vibration against my chest, and then our lips are meeting. A quick brush and he's pulling away, returning only after I whine for him. His lips press and slide, tease, like a man who's spent lifetimes perfecting the skill. When I fist the fabric of his shirt and hold him tight, he nibbles on my bottom lip. Pulling it into his mouth, he sucks. I groan, amazed to feel my desire-already frenzied and desperate-heighten.
His tongue lines my lips, caresses its way insides. A single flick and it's gone again. I moan. Trying to deepen the kiss myself, I receive a sharp nip to the tip of my tongue. Bordering between pain and surprised pleasure, the sensation confuses me even as my body throbs. Then his mouth is pressing against mine insistently, his tongue thrusting inside. I can only lean back against the door as my knees go weak. The kiss goes on forever, feels better than any sex I've ever had, and I'm on the brink of embarrassing myself when I reach for his cock. My hand brushes his belt. He pulls away.
“What are you doing?”
“What? I … what?”
“Not until I say, Jared.”
He pecks me on the lips again and draws away. I'm panting and gaping-he's smirking.
“You're joking?”
“Why would I joke about this?”
“I don't know.” I run a hand through my hair, unable to stave off the grumpy frown pulling at my lips. “I, Jensen, I don't know what's happening.”
“I know your generation is accustomed to rushing sex, but I don't.”
Taken aback, I ask, “Are you calling me a slut?”
He laughs. “No. I'm saying you have a lot to learn. And I need a shower.” As he walks away, he throws over his shoulder, “I'll be thinking about you.”
***
Two fucking days later, I still don't know what's happening. Straight up, I am puzzled. I mean, we blood bonded, right? My life is in his hands. Unfortunately, it's the only thing of mine in his hands, if you know what I mean. I mean he won't touch my dick-in case you're as confused as I am. And the thing is, it's not like he's not horny. I know that's not the problem. Largely because I'm lying in my bed, alone, listening to him writhe and moan a floor above me. My stomach's a squirming mess of nerves and want, but I'm too depressed to reach for my dick again. And, yeah, again. I've been jerking it like a monkey on viagra. But at least I do it quietly!
I hear Chad approach my door and roll my eyes when he doesn't knock. Fucker's gonna get an eyeful, one day.
“J-Bird!” He lands on the bed with a bounce and slaps my stomach in greeting. “How are the fangs hanging, bro?”
Listening to Jensen keen and whimper, I blink, then focus on Chad. How am I doing? Going bat-shit crazy, you? Clearing my throat, I mutter, “All right.”
“I fucking bet. You conserving your energy for later?” He waggles his eyebrows. Douche. “Jensen sucking the energy out of your newb ass? Let's not front, you're taking that cock, am I right?”
If only. “Something like that.”
“Details, man. Skip the ball-rubbing, homo shit. Just tell me it's worth playing bitch boy for two years. It is, right? I know it is.”
Right on cue, Jensen moans. I'd slaughter a chicken to play bitch boy with Jensen. A goat, maybe. Chad, if he keeps asking bullshit questions. After the pause gets pathetic in its own right, I mutter, “I wouldn't know.”
“Yeah, right. Don't be a stingy bitch.”
“Chad, drop it, okay?”
“Wait. No shit?” He looks horrified. Right? “What the fuck's he waiting for? It's been days.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“He's been eye fucking you all over the house.”
“I know.”
“He's been, like, petting you and shit.”
“I know, Chad.”
“And licking his lips and whispering in your ear.”
“Chad, I know! What the fuck do you want me to say? Vampire masturbation is super intense, okay? Now drop it!”
And, yeah, he's not wrong. Jensen has been torturing me. On accident? For kicks? To see if I'll drop to my knees and whine and beg to suck his cock like a whore? I would, if that's not totally obvious. I'd say pretty please with a cherry on top and suck his cock until his come hit the back of my throat. Fuck me, I'm horny. Chad starts talking again. I don't groan, because my momma taught me right … despite rumors of my stabbity, stabbity frat-boy slaughtering nature.
“Dude, I did my research. Vampires put out like brown-haired sorority chicks in an A cup. And bonded pairs? They drink extra blood to maintain the constant stream of jizz leaking from their cocks. Or, you know, woman juice sliding down their thighs.”
I grimace. “You're all class.”
“No, dude, this is serious.” He wrings his hands, looking devastated. “You think he's got a limp dick? I'm not spending an eternity with a limp dick!”
“What the fuck, dude?” I whisper. “He doesn't have a limp dick. But, if you don't shut up, you're gonna spend eternity being thrown around like a football. You get vampire hearing, right?”
He waves me away. “You're a newb. Jensen tuned out me out, like, week one. Doesn't hear me when I'm standing in front of him, half the time.”
“Sounds handy.”
“Hardy har, dickwipe. Here I am, looking out for my boy, and I'm getting shade. Where's the love?” He cackles. “Your thoughts exactly, am I right?”
Guess what's crazy depressing? Chad actually is my boy. My best friend in a house I might be trapped in for the next decade. Just me, my blue balls, and Chad's voice.
Jensen grunts, comes-calls my name as he does. Because that's fair. Because that's not going to make me rip my god damn hair out. Fuck.
“We're taking things slow,” I say, as much to myself as Chad. “It's not a big deal.”
“It's not normal, is what it's not. Talk to Steve. He's a bleeder. He'll know what's up.”
Or, you know, not. I could pretend to be a grown up instead of an overgrown high-school spazz. I mean, I'd have to pretend, because I am that. But, like I said, I roleplayed a vampire once, and he wasn't a spazz. So, you know, I've got this. (I'm lying, to myself, I'm lying.)
“How about, I do me, and you do tentacle porn?”
I grin, expecting embarrassment or huffing indignation. But, yeah, it's Chad. So what I get is, “Dude, I saw this one, it was a centaur, right, but with a tentacle cock and tongue. And it's like mounting this chick from behind, centaur style. You get it, instead of doggie-”
One handy thing about being a vampire? I can run like the wind. So I do.
***
Jensen's shirtless. Again. Before the bonding? Clothed. After the bonding, walking around shirtless, flaunting what he's got. And what he's got-you see, you'd think I was about to say “is a lot” because it rhymes, but really, I'm about to say-is making my dick hard. What can I say, I'm not a poet. (And I do know it.)
I'm going crazy, okay? Lust has driven me crazy.
But back on point. We're playing a game of pool. He's shirtless and stroking his hand up and down the pool stick. Up. And down. Sliding. Caressing. Grabs the pool chalk and turns it over the tip, slowly. Once, twice, a third time. Brings it to his mouth and blows.
Raising his gaze to meet mine, he says, “It's your turn.”
“Right. Duh!” I drop the pool stick but catch it before it hits the ground. “I'm just, yeah.”
Awkward laughing. Because I rock.
I do get a ball in, because pool isn't bowling. All the vamps still school me, but I can beat Chad. And my life is pathetic enough that I'm proud of that.
When I miss my second shot, Jensen walks behind me and lays his hand on my shoulder. “Nice try.”
His hand moves, slides, down my back, teases the small of my back and drops away. And, really, what the fuck is happening? Put me down for puzzled, because I don't get it.
Shooting one ball after another, he sinks them all and turns to grin at me. “Look, I made you my bitch again.”
“Yeah....”
***
So, here I am, knocking on Chris and Steve's door, head hanging in shame. Chris is in the shower, so it's now or never. Because I like Chris, surprisingly, but this is not a Chris conversation.
“Hey, Jared,” Steve greets me with a warm smile. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, man.”
Inside, I look around, pleasantly surprised. The rest of the house is expensively decorated, but barren of any real personality. Here, the walls are plastered with colorful art. Sculptures and fabrics are everywhere. It's like an extension of Steve's personality, and I can't help but feel at ease.
Only, not. I walk to the tv set, gesture to it, and ask, “May I?”
He nods. “This is serious.”
“Nah.”
I might die of sexual frustration. No big deal.
“So, what's up?”
I glance toward the adjoining bathroom, conscious of my time limit. “So, okay, this is embarrassing, and you can tell me to fuck off, but how long were you and Chris bonded before you, um, consummated … things.”
“About three minutes. Why?”
“No reason.” I bury my head in my hands. This is going so well. “Just curious.”
“I don't know why you're not fucking, Jared. It's odd.”
“Right? It is. It's not okay.” I groan. “I'm not a slut, I swear. I'm really not. I've only been with three guys, and two of them were long term. And the other time, I drank too much, and I really missed Alex, and I'm not proud of it, okay? But for a guy my age-”
“Jared.” He shakes his head. “You're fine.”
“I just don't get it. Is he a monk or something?”
“Not really. He has sex at least once a year.”
Are you shitting me? Once a year? I will implode. Explode. My balls will shrivel up like raisins. Have I mentioned that I'm not a slut? But it's not like I have a lot to do here. And the bond. And … I want him so bad.
Heart sinking, I speak the dreadful words aloud. “I'm only getting laid once a year.”
Steve laughs. “Jensen's been doing his healthy-living routine a while. Before, though, from what Chris says, he and Jensen got around.”
“But he's basically been celibate for what? How long?”
“Fifty years, I think.”
I groan. “Fuck me.”
“The bond will take care of this, Jared. Relax.”
“How do you know? It was three minutes for you. I'm three days and counting, man.”
The water cuts off. Even as I'm grimacing, Chris strides through the door with a towel around his waist. I surge to my feet, eyes slamming shut.
“Sorry! I'll get out of your space.”
“Don't sweat it. I heard voices. What's up?”
I dare to open one eye. Chris strides to a dresser and start pulling out clean clothes. The towel starts to drop and I jerk my gaze away. Vampire speed. Chris laughs.
“Jensen won't put out,” Steve says.
So, I want to die. Confiding to Steve is one thing. If bowling and combat training are anything to go by, Chris's suggestion will involve Spanish Fly and a sledge hammer.
“Huh.”
Clothes rustle, and isn't that just fucking great. Jensen, I can't get naked for anything. Chris is all free balling nonchalance.
“Relax, spazz, I'm decent.” He plops onto the couch beside Steve. “What'd he say, exactly?”
“Exactly? Ah, 'Not until I say.' And something about not rushing, and me having a lot to learn.”
“Hot damn!” Chris grins. “He's playing the game.”
“No,” Steve says, “he's not.”
“Wanna bet?”
“He wouldn't play the game with his bonded.”
He surges to his feet. “Wanna fucking bet?”
“I'd love to bet,” I snap. “But I kinda don't know what the shit you're talking about.”
“Jensen's back.” Chris beams, looking ridiculously happy. “My boy's back. Oh! Maybe he'll hunt with me!”
And then, he runs from the room. I'm still gaping when a flash of movement leaves him standing before me. Punching me in the shoulder, he announces, “you're awesome!” and disappears again.
“Ah, should I be worried about that?”
Steve says, “Too early to tell, I think.”
“So … what's the game?”
“Okay, first, let's look at the positives. Jensen stopped killing people over a hundred years ago.”
At his pause, I say, “Well, that's good.”
“But he's still a predator.”
“Right.”
“And predators like to hunt.”
“Also true.” I snort. “Is the game about killing puppies or something?”
“No, no. It's just, it was a different time. Most gay men never came out of the closet, even to themselves.” He grimaces. “Jensen and Chris played a game.”
“What? Out the gay boy?”
“More like, seduce the straight boy.”
I let that sink in. Not exactly scribbling names of victims on a wall, but not great either. “But I'm not straight.”
“Everyone was straight, remember. It wasn't about turning straight guys, it was about seduction. Or, perversion. The systematic perversion of another person.”
“I had unlimited data and internet porn. Trust me, I'm a pervert.”
“And Jensen's always been a control freak. Only, before, he obsessed over controlling himself. Now, he's fixated on you. He's … just roll with it, Jared.”
“You're saying, he's fucking with me on purpose.”
“I'm saying, you're in the hands of a master.” He smirks. “Trust me. Roll with it.”
***
It's time for another feeding. Chris and Steve are out, and part of me is thankful for Jeff's presence to diffuse the never-ending sexual tension. Part of me wishes I could stay in my room. I'm hungry, I am, but I'm dragging my heels. I jacked off half an hour ago, but vampire stamina is ridiculous, and I'm kinda afraid I'm gonna come in my pants. No. Actually, I'm really, really afraid I'm going to come in my pants. It was a near thing last time, and I hadn't been teased and tormented half-passed sanity then.
Jensen knows, of course. He knows that I know. You'd think that'd be the end of the game, but not so much. He's only escalated. And I'm about done. Nothing left of Jared but frayed nerves and hunger.
After he bids me enter, I walk into his room. Seeing Jeff there curdles my stomach. I know Jensen can't feed from him. Know he's straight and married. I still feel the ache of my fangs, and not because I'm hungry. But shit, Jeff. I hang my head. I forgot all about bag-of-dicks number two-you know, my hatchety murdery encounter with Jeff and Sam, in case you can't keep up.
“Hey, Jared,” he greets, just as casual and warm as the first time we met.
I dare lift my head. “Hey.” But, of course, I can't let things sit, so I say, “Listen, Jeff, about before, I'm so sorry, man. I would never hurt-”
“You didn't.” Jeff shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “You didn't hurt anyone. You're doing great, kid.”
“You are,” Jensen says. “I'm proud of you.”
And fuck me if those words don't sizzle through my body like an electric surge. His dog, again, I can almost feel my tail wagging.
“Come closer,” Jensen beckons.
Edging closer, I watch his gaze slide from my face and travel down my body. Feel him touching me, even though he's not. When his gaze returns to mine, he lifts that damn eyebrow.
“Jeff, give him your wrist.”
Then he slides behind me, out of sight, but so close I can feel the energy of his body mingling with mine. His breath fans against my throat. Despite the thrum of Jeff's blood against my fingers, my head falls back, baring my own neck. His fingers are at my chin, turning my head so our gazes meet.
“Let's see the fangs.”
I focus, but they don't come when I call. Christ, I'm twisted in knots. I'm supposed to be feeding. I know that, but my body doesn't. I'm pliant and boneless, my knees weak. Like I should be on them, before Jensen. Offering my neck or sucking his cock-whatever he hungers for.
“How about this?”
Lifting his hand, he sinks his fangs deep into his wrist. The sight, the smell of his blood on the air, has my fangs springing free in an instant. Licking my lips, I reach for him. He tsks and drags his tongue through the blood in one long, profane motion. And again.
As the wounds close, I fidget and whimper. Mine.
Then his hand's at my nape, forcing my head to turn. Forcing me toward Jeff's wrist. Gripping his arm, I pierce his skin even as I feel Jensen's hand at my hip. Jeff's before me, so I clench my eyes shut, blocking him out. Trying to pretend it's Jensen's wrist beneath my lips. The rush of blood is earthy and delicious, but not what I want. Not at all.
Jensen's hand tightens at my nape. My knees tremble and he's against me, pressing into my back. Holding me up and destroying my strength all in an instant.
“Focus,” he scolds.
And fuck him, okay? Fuck him up and down and sideways. Because if he wants me to focus on Jeff, what's his hand doing sliding around my hip? Why are his fingers splayed inches from my cock? Why can I smell the sweet tang of his blood in the air?
His fingers tighten around my neck, urging me back. I lap at the flowing blood, then prick my finger and rub the blood into Jeff's wounds. As they heal, I make one final sweep, then rock back to rest against the wall of Jensen's chest.
My body shudders and I whine deep in my throat. I didn't come-such a small triumph-but that's because orgasm signal satisfaction, completion. I've drank my fill, but somehow feel more raw and starving than when we began. My cock's throbbing, aching, and Jensen's hand edges just the slightest bit closer before falling away.
“So good, baby.” Jensen speaks right against my ear. “You can go.”
Blinking at the mix of reward and dismissal, I can only hang my head and trudge from the room. Right to my room. I'm still in a haze of thoughtless desire when I strip my shirt. Button popped. Zipper lowered, and I push my jeans and boxers from my body. Then I'm on the bed-naked, dazed, and hard.
Closing my eyes, I pretend it's Jensen's hand sliding down my chest. Jensen's fingers swirling through my happy trail. Lower. Over the dip of my hip bones. Gripping my cock and stroking up, hard and insistent. I keen, crane my neck, and try to imagine Jensen above me.
“Hard for me, sweetheart?” Jensen asks.
And I'm not imagining that. Or, if I am, I've fucking lost it, because it sounds real.
“I asked you a question, Jared.” Voice softening, he repeats, “Are you hard for me?”
“I … god, yes. You're killing me, Jensen. Please.”
From a floor above me, he asks, “Please, what? What do you want, Jared? Can you say it?”
“You.” My hand tightens and I groan. “Just you. Please.”
“I'm here. You have me.”
“No, Jensen.” I whine. “You know what I mean.”
Voice lowering to a growl, he demands, “Will you take what you're given? Or do you want nothing at all?”
“No, please. Jensen-”
“I'm hard for you.” He groans. “Want to stay hard. Want to ache while I listen to you shake and moan. Can you do that for me, Jared? Can you do exactly as you're told?”
“Yes!”
“Are you touching yourself?”
I become aware of the hard grip I've got on my cock and whisper, “Yes.”
“Stop.” I drop my hand immediately and roll my head, my eyes heavy and body thrumming with want. “Drag your fingertips over your lips. Don't lick. Don't suck. Just touch. Fingertips to lips.”
I obey him. Feel nerve endings flare to life. I yearn to spread my lips, to seek out the sensations I've been denied. I don't. Wouldn't. But the wanting makes me burn.
“Can you feel it, Jared?”
I part my lips, feel the hot puff of air against my fingers as I speak. “I feel it.”
“What? What do you feel?”
“It tingles. Tickles.”
“Draw your fingers away. Do you feel it still? Feel me there? Touching you?”
Gasping, I whisper, “I do.”
“Good, Jared. You're so good for me, baby. Make me ache for you.”
“Jensen-”
“Fingers back on your lips, Jared. Are they there?”
“Yes.”
“Drag them lower, over your chin and down your neck.” He groans and the sound makes my body throb. “That neck. That's where I want my hand, baby. That's where I want my mouth when I come. You hear me come, don't you? Hear your name on my lips? When I come, it's thinking about my fangs in your neck. Feel it, Jared. Run your hand over the place I want my mouth.”
I whimper and drag my nails down my neck, imagining the bite of his teeth. Back and forth I rub, aching for him.
“Would you let me? Would you bare your neck?” I hear the hiss of his breath. “Would you beg for me, baby? If you knew it made me happy, would you beg?”
“Please.”
“So good. Slide your hand down your chest. Do you want to touch your nipples? Are they sensitive, Jared? Do you want my mouth there?”
“I, yes. Please.”
“Don't touch.” He chuckles, the sound filthy. “Don't touch, but feel. Can you feel them? If you really focus, Jared? Can you make them ache for me?”
“Jesus, Jensen. I can't....”
“Can't feel?”
“Can't do this.” I pant. “Please, I feel like … I can't do this.”
“Yes. You can. Do you want to know why? Jared, do you?”
“Jensen, please.”
“Because I'm telling you to. Because I would never give you an order you couldn't follow.” Voice hard, he says, “Know that to be true, Jared. Feel it. Worship it. Worship it like I'll worship you. Like I'll worship your blood and your soul and your cock. You are mine and I've got you, always.”
I toss my head, feeling dazed and boneless. Feeling like I could melt into the sheet and never be a person again if he bid it.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Slide your hand from your chest to your cock, but don't touch. Not yet. Jared, promise me.”
“Anything. Jensen, anything. I promise.”
“Do it, Jared. Slowly. Do it now.”
The drag of my hand is torture. Leaving my nipples untouched, I feel them ache. Down my stomach, muscles jumping beneath my hand, and to the soft skin beneath my cock. My fingers tremble. My breath staggers out on a broken moan.
“Do you want to touch?”
“Yes. Please, I do.”
“Say 'please' again.”
“Please, Jensen. Please. Please. Let me.”
“Run a single finger, your index finger, Jared, run it from the base to the tip. Finger the slit for me, baby. Are you leaking? Are you wet for me?”
Toes curling, I obey him. My finger slips and slides through the pre-come and I moan. “Yes,” I hiss. “Yes, I am.”
“Now lift your hand, Jared. Lift it because I said so. Can you do it?”
My body flexes against the bedspread as I forfeit what little contact he's allowed me. I whimper, but whisper, “Yes.”
“Part your lips. Now, Jared. Bring your finger to your mouth and push it inside. Now. Taste yourself, like I want to. Like I ache to. Close your lips around your finger and suck. Are you sucking, baby? Moan for me.”
I suck, the sensation somehow more than it's ever been. The draw of my mouth meaning more than it ever has before. I suck and it's blood. It's life. It's Jensen's cock and it's his neck beneath my mouth. The suction around my finger races straight to my cock and I moan. Moan again and tremble when he echoes me.
“Put another finger in. Can you fit a third? I want your lips stretched wide around those fingers. I want your tongue sliding between them. Get them slippery and wet for me. Okay, baby? Good and wet. When you fist your cock, when you stroke it, I want it so wet you can imagine my mouth.”
I moan for him again, my lips stretched wide with my fingers.
“So good, Jared. So good for me. Making me ache, my filthy baby. Wrap those filthy fingers around your cock.” His breath hitches. “But don't move your hand. Not yet. Count. Nice and slow, Jared. Count out loud, baby, so I can hear you.”
Wrapping my hand around my cock, my eyes roll back. A groan slithers from my throat. “One.”
“I wish I had your pre-come on my tongue. Wish I could flick my tongue over the head, little flicks and swipes until you break and babble and beg. Count, Jared.”
“Two.” I sob. “Fuck, Jensen. Please.”
“I'd suck you down so good, baby. Your fingers would fist in the sheets as every last inch of you slides past my lips.”
I bite my lip. Hard. The desire to move, to find pleasure, is so intense I shake. “Three.”
“I'd hollow my cheeks and suck. Press a hand to your hips as you buck beneath me. And then I'd be moving up. Up, and my tight lips drag. Up, and my tongue strokes and teases. Up, and the head catches on my lip, my tongue darting out to probe and caress.”
For a long span of seconds I can say nothing, only pant. Finally, I whisper, “Four.”
“When you get to five, I want you to stroke your cock. I want you to pretend it's my mouth. I want to hear your moans and your whimpers. I want to hear you writhe, and I want to hear you come. Are you listening, Jared? I want my name to be the last thing on your lips before you shoot, hot and filthy all over your hand. Please, baby, say five for me. I want it.”
“Five.”
The first stroke makes my back arch. I moan for him. Just for him.
“Jensen. Fuck. It's your mouth, it is. I can feel it. Those lips. Those fucking lips. I'm fucking crazy for you. Want you so bad.”
“I'm yours.”
I whimper and whine, stroking myself to the sound of his heavy breathing. Always on edge, tortured to the point of insanity, I seek out and hide from the sensations at the same time. I want this forever.
“You're making me shake. Jensen, please. I'm so gone on you. So,” I suck in a deep breath, moan, “so, gone. Please.”
“You like that, Jared? Like my lips stretched around your cock? Like it when I hum around you? When the vibrations shiver and echo down every last inch? Do you?”
“Yes. Jensen, yes.” Head thrashing, I bite at my lip. My hips are arching off the bed, because Jensen's not here to hold me down. Imagining the heavy weight of him, my body spasms, throbs. “So close. Please.”
“Please what, baby? Please keep sucking your cock, because I won't ever stop. Or please stroke my hand up your stomach? Please let my nails bite into your neck on the way up? Please thrust my wrist against your mouth and whine for your teeth to slide deep under my skin? Because, Jared, please. Please, baby. Bite me. Take my blood. I want to live inside you. Forever. Want to feel your greedy, sucking mouth clamp tight and drink your fill. Want to feel your moan vibrate up my arm as your come splashes against my tongue. Give me what I want, baby. Come. Now, Jared. Come now.”
“Jensen!”
“So good. So perfect.”
Moaning, the world goes white around the edges and pleasure explodes through me. I pant and whimper, tremble and sob. I bite into my lip and taste Jensen's blood.
Chapter: Chapter 4
Pairing: Jensen/Jared, J2 AU
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 4,000 ish (WIP)
Warning: Vampirism. Bloodplay. Slavery. Dominance. Chad Michael Murray.
Disclaimer: The boys are not mine. This did not happen. And if it did, I wasn't invited.
Summary: Vampire movies? Full of shit. That's what Jared learns when he's forcibly turned and caged, set to be sold into vampire slavery. Turns out, the big bad variety of vampires only feed from other vampires. And little bitch vampires like him? They're sold as walking blood bags and pets. Freshly turned and in the home of his owner, Jared struggles to understand his new nature and his new master. Stockholm Syndrome, anyone?
Jensen's licked my wrist clean and is snuggling into my chest when I lower my chin, hoping-yearning-for a kiss. I hear the purr as he leans in, feel the vibration against my chest, and then our lips are meeting. A quick brush and he's pulling away, returning only after I whine for him. His lips press and slide, tease, like a man who's spent lifetimes perfecting the skill. When I fist the fabric of his shirt and hold him tight, he nibbles on my bottom lip. Pulling it into his mouth, he sucks. I groan, amazed to feel my desire-already frenzied and desperate-heighten.
His tongue lines my lips, caresses its way insides. A single flick and it's gone again. I moan. Trying to deepen the kiss myself, I receive a sharp nip to the tip of my tongue. Bordering between pain and surprised pleasure, the sensation confuses me even as my body throbs. Then his mouth is pressing against mine insistently, his tongue thrusting inside. I can only lean back against the door as my knees go weak. The kiss goes on forever, feels better than any sex I've ever had, and I'm on the brink of embarrassing myself when I reach for his cock. My hand brushes his belt. He pulls away.
“What are you doing?”
“What? I … what?”
“Not until I say, Jared.”
He pecks me on the lips again and draws away. I'm panting and gaping-he's smirking.
“You're joking?”
“Why would I joke about this?”
“I don't know.” I run a hand through my hair, unable to stave off the grumpy frown pulling at my lips. “I, Jensen, I don't know what's happening.”
“I know your generation is accustomed to rushing sex, but I don't.”
Taken aback, I ask, “Are you calling me a slut?”
He laughs. “No. I'm saying you have a lot to learn. And I need a shower.” As he walks away, he throws over his shoulder, “I'll be thinking about you.”
***
Two fucking days later, I still don't know what's happening. Straight up, I am puzzled. I mean, we blood bonded, right? My life is in his hands. Unfortunately, it's the only thing of mine in his hands, if you know what I mean. I mean he won't touch my dick-in case you're as confused as I am. And the thing is, it's not like he's not horny. I know that's not the problem. Largely because I'm lying in my bed, alone, listening to him writhe and moan a floor above me. My stomach's a squirming mess of nerves and want, but I'm too depressed to reach for my dick again. And, yeah, again. I've been jerking it like a monkey on viagra. But at least I do it quietly!
I hear Chad approach my door and roll my eyes when he doesn't knock. Fucker's gonna get an eyeful, one day.
“J-Bird!” He lands on the bed with a bounce and slaps my stomach in greeting. “How are the fangs hanging, bro?”
Listening to Jensen keen and whimper, I blink, then focus on Chad. How am I doing? Going bat-shit crazy, you? Clearing my throat, I mutter, “All right.”
“I fucking bet. You conserving your energy for later?” He waggles his eyebrows. Douche. “Jensen sucking the energy out of your newb ass? Let's not front, you're taking that cock, am I right?”
If only. “Something like that.”
“Details, man. Skip the ball-rubbing, homo shit. Just tell me it's worth playing bitch boy for two years. It is, right? I know it is.”
Right on cue, Jensen moans. I'd slaughter a chicken to play bitch boy with Jensen. A goat, maybe. Chad, if he keeps asking bullshit questions. After the pause gets pathetic in its own right, I mutter, “I wouldn't know.”
“Yeah, right. Don't be a stingy bitch.”
“Chad, drop it, okay?”
“Wait. No shit?” He looks horrified. Right? “What the fuck's he waiting for? It's been days.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“He's been eye fucking you all over the house.”
“I know.”
“He's been, like, petting you and shit.”
“I know, Chad.”
“And licking his lips and whispering in your ear.”
“Chad, I know! What the fuck do you want me to say? Vampire masturbation is super intense, okay? Now drop it!”
And, yeah, he's not wrong. Jensen has been torturing me. On accident? For kicks? To see if I'll drop to my knees and whine and beg to suck his cock like a whore? I would, if that's not totally obvious. I'd say pretty please with a cherry on top and suck his cock until his come hit the back of my throat. Fuck me, I'm horny. Chad starts talking again. I don't groan, because my momma taught me right … despite rumors of my stabbity, stabbity frat-boy slaughtering nature.
“Dude, I did my research. Vampires put out like brown-haired sorority chicks in an A cup. And bonded pairs? They drink extra blood to maintain the constant stream of jizz leaking from their cocks. Or, you know, woman juice sliding down their thighs.”
I grimace. “You're all class.”
“No, dude, this is serious.” He wrings his hands, looking devastated. “You think he's got a limp dick? I'm not spending an eternity with a limp dick!”
“What the fuck, dude?” I whisper. “He doesn't have a limp dick. But, if you don't shut up, you're gonna spend eternity being thrown around like a football. You get vampire hearing, right?”
He waves me away. “You're a newb. Jensen tuned out me out, like, week one. Doesn't hear me when I'm standing in front of him, half the time.”
“Sounds handy.”
“Hardy har, dickwipe. Here I am, looking out for my boy, and I'm getting shade. Where's the love?” He cackles. “Your thoughts exactly, am I right?”
Guess what's crazy depressing? Chad actually is my boy. My best friend in a house I might be trapped in for the next decade. Just me, my blue balls, and Chad's voice.
Jensen grunts, comes-calls my name as he does. Because that's fair. Because that's not going to make me rip my god damn hair out. Fuck.
“We're taking things slow,” I say, as much to myself as Chad. “It's not a big deal.”
“It's not normal, is what it's not. Talk to Steve. He's a bleeder. He'll know what's up.”
Or, you know, not. I could pretend to be a grown up instead of an overgrown high-school spazz. I mean, I'd have to pretend, because I am that. But, like I said, I roleplayed a vampire once, and he wasn't a spazz. So, you know, I've got this. (I'm lying, to myself, I'm lying.)
“How about, I do me, and you do tentacle porn?”
I grin, expecting embarrassment or huffing indignation. But, yeah, it's Chad. So what I get is, “Dude, I saw this one, it was a centaur, right, but with a tentacle cock and tongue. And it's like mounting this chick from behind, centaur style. You get it, instead of doggie-”
One handy thing about being a vampire? I can run like the wind. So I do.
***
Jensen's shirtless. Again. Before the bonding? Clothed. After the bonding, walking around shirtless, flaunting what he's got. And what he's got-you see, you'd think I was about to say “is a lot” because it rhymes, but really, I'm about to say-is making my dick hard. What can I say, I'm not a poet. (And I do know it.)
I'm going crazy, okay? Lust has driven me crazy.
But back on point. We're playing a game of pool. He's shirtless and stroking his hand up and down the pool stick. Up. And down. Sliding. Caressing. Grabs the pool chalk and turns it over the tip, slowly. Once, twice, a third time. Brings it to his mouth and blows.
Raising his gaze to meet mine, he says, “It's your turn.”
“Right. Duh!” I drop the pool stick but catch it before it hits the ground. “I'm just, yeah.”
Awkward laughing. Because I rock.
I do get a ball in, because pool isn't bowling. All the vamps still school me, but I can beat Chad. And my life is pathetic enough that I'm proud of that.
When I miss my second shot, Jensen walks behind me and lays his hand on my shoulder. “Nice try.”
His hand moves, slides, down my back, teases the small of my back and drops away. And, really, what the fuck is happening? Put me down for puzzled, because I don't get it.
Shooting one ball after another, he sinks them all and turns to grin at me. “Look, I made you my bitch again.”
“Yeah....”
***
So, here I am, knocking on Chris and Steve's door, head hanging in shame. Chris is in the shower, so it's now or never. Because I like Chris, surprisingly, but this is not a Chris conversation.
“Hey, Jared,” Steve greets me with a warm smile. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, man.”
Inside, I look around, pleasantly surprised. The rest of the house is expensively decorated, but barren of any real personality. Here, the walls are plastered with colorful art. Sculptures and fabrics are everywhere. It's like an extension of Steve's personality, and I can't help but feel at ease.
Only, not. I walk to the tv set, gesture to it, and ask, “May I?”
He nods. “This is serious.”
“Nah.”
I might die of sexual frustration. No big deal.
“So, what's up?”
I glance toward the adjoining bathroom, conscious of my time limit. “So, okay, this is embarrassing, and you can tell me to fuck off, but how long were you and Chris bonded before you, um, consummated … things.”
“About three minutes. Why?”
“No reason.” I bury my head in my hands. This is going so well. “Just curious.”
“I don't know why you're not fucking, Jared. It's odd.”
“Right? It is. It's not okay.” I groan. “I'm not a slut, I swear. I'm really not. I've only been with three guys, and two of them were long term. And the other time, I drank too much, and I really missed Alex, and I'm not proud of it, okay? But for a guy my age-”
“Jared.” He shakes his head. “You're fine.”
“I just don't get it. Is he a monk or something?”
“Not really. He has sex at least once a year.”
Are you shitting me? Once a year? I will implode. Explode. My balls will shrivel up like raisins. Have I mentioned that I'm not a slut? But it's not like I have a lot to do here. And the bond. And … I want him so bad.
Heart sinking, I speak the dreadful words aloud. “I'm only getting laid once a year.”
Steve laughs. “Jensen's been doing his healthy-living routine a while. Before, though, from what Chris says, he and Jensen got around.”
“But he's basically been celibate for what? How long?”
“Fifty years, I think.”
I groan. “Fuck me.”
“The bond will take care of this, Jared. Relax.”
“How do you know? It was three minutes for you. I'm three days and counting, man.”
The water cuts off. Even as I'm grimacing, Chris strides through the door with a towel around his waist. I surge to my feet, eyes slamming shut.
“Sorry! I'll get out of your space.”
“Don't sweat it. I heard voices. What's up?”
I dare to open one eye. Chris strides to a dresser and start pulling out clean clothes. The towel starts to drop and I jerk my gaze away. Vampire speed. Chris laughs.
“Jensen won't put out,” Steve says.
So, I want to die. Confiding to Steve is one thing. If bowling and combat training are anything to go by, Chris's suggestion will involve Spanish Fly and a sledge hammer.
“Huh.”
Clothes rustle, and isn't that just fucking great. Jensen, I can't get naked for anything. Chris is all free balling nonchalance.
“Relax, spazz, I'm decent.” He plops onto the couch beside Steve. “What'd he say, exactly?”
“Exactly? Ah, 'Not until I say.' And something about not rushing, and me having a lot to learn.”
“Hot damn!” Chris grins. “He's playing the game.”
“No,” Steve says, “he's not.”
“Wanna bet?”
“He wouldn't play the game with his bonded.”
He surges to his feet. “Wanna fucking bet?”
“I'd love to bet,” I snap. “But I kinda don't know what the shit you're talking about.”
“Jensen's back.” Chris beams, looking ridiculously happy. “My boy's back. Oh! Maybe he'll hunt with me!”
And then, he runs from the room. I'm still gaping when a flash of movement leaves him standing before me. Punching me in the shoulder, he announces, “you're awesome!” and disappears again.
“Ah, should I be worried about that?”
Steve says, “Too early to tell, I think.”
“So … what's the game?”
“Okay, first, let's look at the positives. Jensen stopped killing people over a hundred years ago.”
At his pause, I say, “Well, that's good.”
“But he's still a predator.”
“Right.”
“And predators like to hunt.”
“Also true.” I snort. “Is the game about killing puppies or something?”
“No, no. It's just, it was a different time. Most gay men never came out of the closet, even to themselves.” He grimaces. “Jensen and Chris played a game.”
“What? Out the gay boy?”
“More like, seduce the straight boy.”
I let that sink in. Not exactly scribbling names of victims on a wall, but not great either. “But I'm not straight.”
“Everyone was straight, remember. It wasn't about turning straight guys, it was about seduction. Or, perversion. The systematic perversion of another person.”
“I had unlimited data and internet porn. Trust me, I'm a pervert.”
“And Jensen's always been a control freak. Only, before, he obsessed over controlling himself. Now, he's fixated on you. He's … just roll with it, Jared.”
“You're saying, he's fucking with me on purpose.”
“I'm saying, you're in the hands of a master.” He smirks. “Trust me. Roll with it.”
***
It's time for another feeding. Chris and Steve are out, and part of me is thankful for Jeff's presence to diffuse the never-ending sexual tension. Part of me wishes I could stay in my room. I'm hungry, I am, but I'm dragging my heels. I jacked off half an hour ago, but vampire stamina is ridiculous, and I'm kinda afraid I'm gonna come in my pants. No. Actually, I'm really, really afraid I'm going to come in my pants. It was a near thing last time, and I hadn't been teased and tormented half-passed sanity then.
Jensen knows, of course. He knows that I know. You'd think that'd be the end of the game, but not so much. He's only escalated. And I'm about done. Nothing left of Jared but frayed nerves and hunger.
After he bids me enter, I walk into his room. Seeing Jeff there curdles my stomach. I know Jensen can't feed from him. Know he's straight and married. I still feel the ache of my fangs, and not because I'm hungry. But shit, Jeff. I hang my head. I forgot all about bag-of-dicks number two-you know, my hatchety murdery encounter with Jeff and Sam, in case you can't keep up.
“Hey, Jared,” he greets, just as casual and warm as the first time we met.
I dare lift my head. “Hey.” But, of course, I can't let things sit, so I say, “Listen, Jeff, about before, I'm so sorry, man. I would never hurt-”
“You didn't.” Jeff shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “You didn't hurt anyone. You're doing great, kid.”
“You are,” Jensen says. “I'm proud of you.”
And fuck me if those words don't sizzle through my body like an electric surge. His dog, again, I can almost feel my tail wagging.
“Come closer,” Jensen beckons.
Edging closer, I watch his gaze slide from my face and travel down my body. Feel him touching me, even though he's not. When his gaze returns to mine, he lifts that damn eyebrow.
“Jeff, give him your wrist.”
Then he slides behind me, out of sight, but so close I can feel the energy of his body mingling with mine. His breath fans against my throat. Despite the thrum of Jeff's blood against my fingers, my head falls back, baring my own neck. His fingers are at my chin, turning my head so our gazes meet.
“Let's see the fangs.”
I focus, but they don't come when I call. Christ, I'm twisted in knots. I'm supposed to be feeding. I know that, but my body doesn't. I'm pliant and boneless, my knees weak. Like I should be on them, before Jensen. Offering my neck or sucking his cock-whatever he hungers for.
“How about this?”
Lifting his hand, he sinks his fangs deep into his wrist. The sight, the smell of his blood on the air, has my fangs springing free in an instant. Licking my lips, I reach for him. He tsks and drags his tongue through the blood in one long, profane motion. And again.
As the wounds close, I fidget and whimper. Mine.
Then his hand's at my nape, forcing my head to turn. Forcing me toward Jeff's wrist. Gripping his arm, I pierce his skin even as I feel Jensen's hand at my hip. Jeff's before me, so I clench my eyes shut, blocking him out. Trying to pretend it's Jensen's wrist beneath my lips. The rush of blood is earthy and delicious, but not what I want. Not at all.
Jensen's hand tightens at my nape. My knees tremble and he's against me, pressing into my back. Holding me up and destroying my strength all in an instant.
“Focus,” he scolds.
And fuck him, okay? Fuck him up and down and sideways. Because if he wants me to focus on Jeff, what's his hand doing sliding around my hip? Why are his fingers splayed inches from my cock? Why can I smell the sweet tang of his blood in the air?
His fingers tighten around my neck, urging me back. I lap at the flowing blood, then prick my finger and rub the blood into Jeff's wounds. As they heal, I make one final sweep, then rock back to rest against the wall of Jensen's chest.
My body shudders and I whine deep in my throat. I didn't come-such a small triumph-but that's because orgasm signal satisfaction, completion. I've drank my fill, but somehow feel more raw and starving than when we began. My cock's throbbing, aching, and Jensen's hand edges just the slightest bit closer before falling away.
“So good, baby.” Jensen speaks right against my ear. “You can go.”
Blinking at the mix of reward and dismissal, I can only hang my head and trudge from the room. Right to my room. I'm still in a haze of thoughtless desire when I strip my shirt. Button popped. Zipper lowered, and I push my jeans and boxers from my body. Then I'm on the bed-naked, dazed, and hard.
Closing my eyes, I pretend it's Jensen's hand sliding down my chest. Jensen's fingers swirling through my happy trail. Lower. Over the dip of my hip bones. Gripping my cock and stroking up, hard and insistent. I keen, crane my neck, and try to imagine Jensen above me.
“Hard for me, sweetheart?” Jensen asks.
And I'm not imagining that. Or, if I am, I've fucking lost it, because it sounds real.
“I asked you a question, Jared.” Voice softening, he repeats, “Are you hard for me?”
“I … god, yes. You're killing me, Jensen. Please.”
From a floor above me, he asks, “Please, what? What do you want, Jared? Can you say it?”
“You.” My hand tightens and I groan. “Just you. Please.”
“I'm here. You have me.”
“No, Jensen.” I whine. “You know what I mean.”
Voice lowering to a growl, he demands, “Will you take what you're given? Or do you want nothing at all?”
“No, please. Jensen-”
“I'm hard for you.” He groans. “Want to stay hard. Want to ache while I listen to you shake and moan. Can you do that for me, Jared? Can you do exactly as you're told?”
“Yes!”
“Are you touching yourself?”
I become aware of the hard grip I've got on my cock and whisper, “Yes.”
“Stop.” I drop my hand immediately and roll my head, my eyes heavy and body thrumming with want. “Drag your fingertips over your lips. Don't lick. Don't suck. Just touch. Fingertips to lips.”
I obey him. Feel nerve endings flare to life. I yearn to spread my lips, to seek out the sensations I've been denied. I don't. Wouldn't. But the wanting makes me burn.
“Can you feel it, Jared?”
I part my lips, feel the hot puff of air against my fingers as I speak. “I feel it.”
“What? What do you feel?”
“It tingles. Tickles.”
“Draw your fingers away. Do you feel it still? Feel me there? Touching you?”
Gasping, I whisper, “I do.”
“Good, Jared. You're so good for me, baby. Make me ache for you.”
“Jensen-”
“Fingers back on your lips, Jared. Are they there?”
“Yes.”
“Drag them lower, over your chin and down your neck.” He groans and the sound makes my body throb. “That neck. That's where I want my hand, baby. That's where I want my mouth when I come. You hear me come, don't you? Hear your name on my lips? When I come, it's thinking about my fangs in your neck. Feel it, Jared. Run your hand over the place I want my mouth.”
I whimper and drag my nails down my neck, imagining the bite of his teeth. Back and forth I rub, aching for him.
“Would you let me? Would you bare your neck?” I hear the hiss of his breath. “Would you beg for me, baby? If you knew it made me happy, would you beg?”
“Please.”
“So good. Slide your hand down your chest. Do you want to touch your nipples? Are they sensitive, Jared? Do you want my mouth there?”
“I, yes. Please.”
“Don't touch.” He chuckles, the sound filthy. “Don't touch, but feel. Can you feel them? If you really focus, Jared? Can you make them ache for me?”
“Jesus, Jensen. I can't....”
“Can't feel?”
“Can't do this.” I pant. “Please, I feel like … I can't do this.”
“Yes. You can. Do you want to know why? Jared, do you?”
“Jensen, please.”
“Because I'm telling you to. Because I would never give you an order you couldn't follow.” Voice hard, he says, “Know that to be true, Jared. Feel it. Worship it. Worship it like I'll worship you. Like I'll worship your blood and your soul and your cock. You are mine and I've got you, always.”
I toss my head, feeling dazed and boneless. Feeling like I could melt into the sheet and never be a person again if he bid it.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Slide your hand from your chest to your cock, but don't touch. Not yet. Jared, promise me.”
“Anything. Jensen, anything. I promise.”
“Do it, Jared. Slowly. Do it now.”
The drag of my hand is torture. Leaving my nipples untouched, I feel them ache. Down my stomach, muscles jumping beneath my hand, and to the soft skin beneath my cock. My fingers tremble. My breath staggers out on a broken moan.
“Do you want to touch?”
“Yes. Please, I do.”
“Say 'please' again.”
“Please, Jensen. Please. Please. Let me.”
“Run a single finger, your index finger, Jared, run it from the base to the tip. Finger the slit for me, baby. Are you leaking? Are you wet for me?”
Toes curling, I obey him. My finger slips and slides through the pre-come and I moan. “Yes,” I hiss. “Yes, I am.”
“Now lift your hand, Jared. Lift it because I said so. Can you do it?”
My body flexes against the bedspread as I forfeit what little contact he's allowed me. I whimper, but whisper, “Yes.”
“Part your lips. Now, Jared. Bring your finger to your mouth and push it inside. Now. Taste yourself, like I want to. Like I ache to. Close your lips around your finger and suck. Are you sucking, baby? Moan for me.”
I suck, the sensation somehow more than it's ever been. The draw of my mouth meaning more than it ever has before. I suck and it's blood. It's life. It's Jensen's cock and it's his neck beneath my mouth. The suction around my finger races straight to my cock and I moan. Moan again and tremble when he echoes me.
“Put another finger in. Can you fit a third? I want your lips stretched wide around those fingers. I want your tongue sliding between them. Get them slippery and wet for me. Okay, baby? Good and wet. When you fist your cock, when you stroke it, I want it so wet you can imagine my mouth.”
I moan for him again, my lips stretched wide with my fingers.
“So good, Jared. So good for me. Making me ache, my filthy baby. Wrap those filthy fingers around your cock.” His breath hitches. “But don't move your hand. Not yet. Count. Nice and slow, Jared. Count out loud, baby, so I can hear you.”
Wrapping my hand around my cock, my eyes roll back. A groan slithers from my throat. “One.”
“I wish I had your pre-come on my tongue. Wish I could flick my tongue over the head, little flicks and swipes until you break and babble and beg. Count, Jared.”
“Two.” I sob. “Fuck, Jensen. Please.”
“I'd suck you down so good, baby. Your fingers would fist in the sheets as every last inch of you slides past my lips.”
I bite my lip. Hard. The desire to move, to find pleasure, is so intense I shake. “Three.”
“I'd hollow my cheeks and suck. Press a hand to your hips as you buck beneath me. And then I'd be moving up. Up, and my tight lips drag. Up, and my tongue strokes and teases. Up, and the head catches on my lip, my tongue darting out to probe and caress.”
For a long span of seconds I can say nothing, only pant. Finally, I whisper, “Four.”
“When you get to five, I want you to stroke your cock. I want you to pretend it's my mouth. I want to hear your moans and your whimpers. I want to hear you writhe, and I want to hear you come. Are you listening, Jared? I want my name to be the last thing on your lips before you shoot, hot and filthy all over your hand. Please, baby, say five for me. I want it.”
“Five.”
The first stroke makes my back arch. I moan for him. Just for him.
“Jensen. Fuck. It's your mouth, it is. I can feel it. Those lips. Those fucking lips. I'm fucking crazy for you. Want you so bad.”
“I'm yours.”
I whimper and whine, stroking myself to the sound of his heavy breathing. Always on edge, tortured to the point of insanity, I seek out and hide from the sensations at the same time. I want this forever.
“You're making me shake. Jensen, please. I'm so gone on you. So,” I suck in a deep breath, moan, “so, gone. Please.”
“You like that, Jared? Like my lips stretched around your cock? Like it when I hum around you? When the vibrations shiver and echo down every last inch? Do you?”
“Yes. Jensen, yes.” Head thrashing, I bite at my lip. My hips are arching off the bed, because Jensen's not here to hold me down. Imagining the heavy weight of him, my body spasms, throbs. “So close. Please.”
“Please what, baby? Please keep sucking your cock, because I won't ever stop. Or please stroke my hand up your stomach? Please let my nails bite into your neck on the way up? Please thrust my wrist against your mouth and whine for your teeth to slide deep under my skin? Because, Jared, please. Please, baby. Bite me. Take my blood. I want to live inside you. Forever. Want to feel your greedy, sucking mouth clamp tight and drink your fill. Want to feel your moan vibrate up my arm as your come splashes against my tongue. Give me what I want, baby. Come. Now, Jared. Come now.”
“Jensen!”
“So good. So perfect.”
Moaning, the world goes white around the edges and pleasure explodes through me. I pant and whimper, tremble and sob. I bite into my lip and taste Jensen's blood.