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Randy + Joan 4-Ever by Steph
 
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Randy + Joan 4-ever

 By Steph

 

NC-17 

Randy watched the sunlight play across Joan's hair. He spent a lot of time watching her, he realized. Wondered if that was always the case. Wondered if one of the tables in the store didn't have their initials carved into it, with him acting like a high schooler in study hall... They had all worked tirelessly in the three days since they had awoken with amnesia, yet there was still so much they didn't know.

He did know that he didn't live with his Dad. There had been no sign of clothing Randy's size in Rupert's apartment, so Randy had taken to living in the cellar of the Magic Box. Not a bad place for a vampire, he thought. Even a vampire with a soul, a noble vampire, needed protection from the sun. Which brought him back to the topic at hand. Sunlight. Joan's hair. He loved…

The thought brought him up short. Randy felt like he loved Joan. In the past 72 hours, he had never been far from her side, needing to keep her in his sight, close enough to touch. And she had seemingly felt the same. But the books he had been reading voraciously said that vampires could not truly love. But, he reasoned, a vampire with a soul... a vampire who fought other vampires, aligned himself with a small band of valiant fighters... surely such a creature could love. And for a vampire to love a vampire hunter; the romantic in his soul nearly swooned.

As the woman in question over a large dusty tome, Randy continued to contemplate the sunlight that played across her golden head, gilding the skin of her shoulders and neck. Soft, smooth skin, flawless.... almost.

There, where tendrils of her hair caressed the joining of throat and shoulder, there was a scar. It looked like... ye gods, it was a bite. A vampire bite. Something in him howled at the realization. Something dark, primal. Something not altogether unfamiliar. Something disturbing. But there was still so much missing from the picture, he dared not jump to conclusions.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he applied himself to the equally large tome on the table in front of him. Surely, together they would find out why they had no memory, and remedy the situation. Until then, Randy the Noble Vampire and Joan The Vampire Hunter, would watch over Sunnydale as a team.

 

* * *

 

It was dark in The Magic Box. The sun had not yet set, but the rest of The Band, as they had begun to call themselves, had filed out to find nourishment. Randy sat with a mug of warm blood, reading. A passage caught his eye, making some of the liquid slosh over his hand when the mug clattered to the table.

***More powerful Vampires often have human thralls in addition to their minions. Scarring is common in this situation, as in Mating. Due to their advanced age, they rarely take human mates.***

Randy stared, horrified, at the book. Slamming his current book down, he sprinted up the ladder to pull another volume from Dad's collection. Index... okay... Vampires... blood rites, capture of, decapitation of... there! Enthrallment by page 246.

***Enthrallment by a vampire is a seductive, gradual thing. Humans, and other suitably-blooded demons can be enthralled by a vampire...***

No. Multiple bites needed. That's not it. Back to the Index. Fire and... Gem of Amara... why did that make him wince? Korach blood and... Mating! On page 549.

***Like the creation of childer, mating requires the exchange of blood. However, unlike Siring, Mating will leave permanent scarring. ***

Mating. Master Vampire. Scar. Mate. The words, and some disturbing accompanying images roared through his head, distracting him. Randy didn't hear the bell above the shop door when it rang. He continued to read.

***The process by which a Master Vampire selects and secures a Mate is of great speculation. There is little to no anecdotal record, and no empirical evidence. See Chronicles of the Vampyre by Leonard Pryce. ***

That particular book was surprisingly small, novel-sized even. In the style of, how he knew this he didn't understand, turn- of -the- century 'penny dreadfuls'. The cover was a lurid sketch of a fanged man bent over the neck of a partially clothed woman, both in clothing appropriate to about 1880. He had just begun to read when…

"Geez, Randy. Bodice-rippers? Nice taste in reading!" Joan chirped, looking at the book cover.

"Gah!" Randy yelled, startled, the book falling to the floor. He glared at her, shaking off his gameface. "Don't sneak up on a vampire, Joan, unless you want to kill him!"

"I'll remember that" she smirked at him good-naturedly. "But, still, whatcha reading that trash for?"

"Um, research?" Randy hedged.

"Riiiiggght. And I'll just rent "The Lost Boys" and we'll call it even."

"The what?"

"'The Lost Boys'. Vampire movie. Lots of handsome guys..." Joan teased.

"How is it you can remember the name and content of a movie, but nothing else?"

"Your Dad explained it... its..."

"Please, Joan, I've had my fill of Dear Old Dad today." Randy groused, "I should wonder what he was like before I was old enough for him to lecture."

"Suck it up, Deadboy. He's your Dad. And Dad says we patrol tonight. You good to go?"

"Um. Yes. No. Um... Joan, we need to talk"

"Oh god, we really ARE dating and you've just now remembered you want to break up with me, right?"

"No. Well, not exactly"

"Not exactly WHAT?"

"I don't want to break up with you, Joan. Quite the opposite. And I think there's more to it... Um, hence the book." He picked the book up from where it had fallen. It fell open to a sketch.

"Eww, Randy. Nice book. Vampire porno? Gross!!" Joan was fascinated, repelled, unable to look away. The illustration on the page was labeled "Mating" and showed a naked woman, presumably human, in flagrante delicto with a vampire. While the accompanying text made no mention of preferred vampire sex positions, the artist had chosen to portray the couple in a large wing chair. The woman was impaled atop her vampire lover, facing the reader; the vampire's hands cupping her breasts, his fangs deep in her throat. Her head was thrown back, not just for easy access, but in obvious ecstasy. For a simply drawn piece, it was compelling.

Randy could feel the heat from Joan's blush; hear the increased rate of her heartbeat. The hand she had put on his forearm to look more closely at the book clutched into his sleeve. He feared she was repulsed. Closing the book with a snap, he hurried to explain.

"Joan," he began, "Even though we've lost our memories, there are deep-seated feelings that remain between us, all of us. Yes?" At her nod, he continued. "You may not remember why, but you do KNOW that I would never willingly hurt you. And so do I, for that matter. So I ask you to hear me out on this, before considering any -um- irrevocable action."

Joan was clearly puzzled, and appeared to be growing nervous. Randy hurried on with his thoughts.

"Your scar," he said, reaching out to trace the mark with gentle fingers. "I noticed it today and felt… something. Something worrisome. Do you know what kind of mark it is?"

Joan covered Randy's hand with her own, and then gave a small shiver as the contact zinged across her nerves. "I didn't notice it until now. Until you… until WE touched it. What is it?"

"I'm afraid it's a vampire bite. And I think its mine."

 

Part 2

"I'm afraid it’s a vampire bite. And I think it's mine."

Silence.

The room was soundless. Except for the breathing and heartbeat of one person. Randy realized that, if he did breathe, he would have been holding his breath for her reaction. He could only imagine ferocity of response suitable for a vampire hunter being told she had been bitten, scarred by a vampire. By her partner no less. And that was just the base mechanics of it all.

When minutes passed, and she did not speak, Randy prodded, "Joan?"

Another half minute passed until she spoke.

"It's okay," she said softly. "No, really," she asserted, off his disbelieving expression. "I don't remember when it happened, but I FEEL it's okay. Like there was a reason for it. An important reason. Life, death, love. Something big. Something good."

Randy sighed in relief. Now for the more sticky part of the revelation. He grimaced at the bad mental pun. He flipped through the book again, avoiding the lurid illustrations, finding instead the text he hoped would give his explanation some form.

"It's fairly obvious, from yours and your sister's relationship with my father and from the way we fight together that we know and trust each other." Joan nodded her agreement. "And while I cannot be sure, from what I've seen, and read, and *felt*, all the signs point to a, um, special relationship between you and me. It's… um…"

Randy could feel himself floundering. The topic was so very -intimate-. He decided to change his tack. He took a seat from around the table and motioned for Joan to join him. "It's complicated. And it will take a while to explain. Come sit."

Joan looked at him, at the book in his hand. "Gee, Randy, you want me to sit on your lap so you can tell me a bedtime story?" She made a face. "Why did that sound WAY more innocent in my head?"

She was grinning as she crossed the room to where he sat. He quirked an eyebrow at her as she ignored the other chair and settled onto his lap.

"What?" Buffy said. "No being prude-y English guy here. If you've been chewing on my neck, I think my sitting on your lap is not so terribly shocking," she concluded in a mock-English accent.

"Right then." Randy give her a warm smile. He placed the book on the table, finding the page they needed to read. He took a moment to inhale the fragrance of her skin, her hair. Not so ironically, the shoulder he was peering over was the scarred one. The sight of the mark gave him the impetus to continue. He began to read aloud, softly.

***Of all the vampiric behaviours, Mating is perhaps the least well known, yet probably the most intriguing. Amongst vampires, a mate is usually chosen from amongst most favoured childer, or, in the case of Inter-Order alliances, from the childer of another Master Vampire.***

***The rarest form of Mating occurs between a vampire and a human. Vampires who chose human mates often turn their mates after a time, especially when confronted with the advancing years of said mate, or a challenge for power within the Order.***

"Randy?" Joan's voice was soft as she looked up from the book. He as much felt the vibration as he heard the sound. "Do you think, maybe... You're a Master Vampire, aren't you?" Her face turned slightly to him; he could feel the softness of her breath against his own lips. She leaned back slightly against his chest, gaining a better view of his face.

"I... I don't know, Joan. I can't be certain." The only thing he was certain of was that the more he examined his feelings for the girl on his lap, the more he knew she belonged to him.

"I think you are. I don't think you could be anything else," she stated quietly, equal parts pride and something else in her voice. Something like... Either way, her assurance warmed him. He forged ahead, reading from the book.

***Mating between a vampire and a human is facilitated by an exchange of blood, but on a smaller scale than that which creates childer. The exchange usually occurs in conjunction with vaginal intercourse in the case of a male/female mating, sodomy in--***

"Hell!" Randy said, loudly, making Joan startle on his lap. "T.M.I."

Joan giggled, and settled back against him. He shook his head then looked down at the book. Skimming, he found another relevant passage.

***Most often in Mating, bloodletting is from the jugular vein, as Mating Marks are meant to be visible, as a sign of protection and possession. The vampire pierces the skin as in a customary bite, usually at the point of sexual climax. However, upon removal of the fangs, the skin is purposely torn, as to create a distinctive scar.***

Randy kept his voice steady, but could not keep from wincing. His free hand slipped to Joan's throat, brushing against the scar, making soothing motions, as if the motions of his hand now could erase the pain he knew must have accompanied the marking. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the accelerated pulse, and the light sheen of perspiration that had begun to coat Joan's skin.

"Warm, pet?" he asked, noting her flushed cheeks.

"Just keep reading," Joan commanded Randy softly, wriggling slightly, leaning in to the touch of his hand.

***The amount of blood required for a human mate to take in the exchange is minimal, not usually requiring the vampire to score a vein. A particularly ardent kiss will often rend a vampire's lips against his own fangs, providing sufficient blood for Mating. Once blood is exchange, the vampire and the mate often sequester themselves for several days, the mate meeting all of the vampire's sexual and nutritional requirements.***

Joan's hand had risen, her fingers brushing across her own lips in time to his stroke against her scar. "Vampire honeymoon?" she whispered.

"So it seems." Randy's hand continued to stroke the mark on her neck as he read to himself, summarizing for Joan. "It says, after Mating, the vampire and his mate are virtually inseparable. They do everything together. They need to be together. Need to, to stay… close…"

Randy's already soft voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. In the electric silence, he leaned forward to place his lips on the soft, flawless skin just over the scar. Joan made a tiny, keening noise at the contact of his cool lips on her heated skin; a kiss placed so close yet not -on- the sensitive mark.

"So you're saying… um..." Joan's voice was breathy, strained, her breathing shallow. "You and I… we, um…"

Randy felt Joan's blood singing beneath his lips. He placed an open-mouthed kiss where neck joined shoulder, and then let his tongue dip into the hollow above her collarbone.

"Yes," he murmured against the skin of her shoulder. "We. Made. Love. " He punctuated his words with a series of hard, nipping kisses along the tendon of her neck. "You gave me your blood… and I gave you my mark."

Joan pressed her lips together, but a whimper escaped her nonetheless.

Randy hissed in pleasure against her throat when he felt her press herself harder into his lap. Joan's fingertips left her own lips, moving to thread themselves in his hair, press his mouth harder against her skin. Something inside Randy whispered. 'Feel this. This is what you are meant for. What she is meant for.' He felt the change begin to come over his features. His fangs itched for the soft flesh, the sweet blood beneath his lips.

"Randy…" she breathed. "Please."

 

Part 3

"Randy…" she breathed. "Please."

"Joan." He whispered her name in return. It sounded strange, emerging as it was from behind his fangs. It gave him pause. He pulled away from her, his hand falling away from her throat. "Look at me." He insisted, "See what I am. Are you sure this is what you want? That -I- am what you want?"

Joan let out a shuddering breath, a shiver skimming down her spine as she noticed his silky voice assuming the sibilance that spoke of his gameface. She turned slightly in his lap, looking steadily, expectantly at him.

Randy was heartened by her calm acceptance of his changed features. He continued, low and intent. "I feel things for you, pet. Deep, strong, dark things. Not the stuff of fairy tales... perhaps more that of cautionary ones with lurid illustrations..." He paused a moment, thinking of the book that had gotten them to this point. He gave her a small, wry smile. "And while the story of a vampire redeeming himself after falling in love with a slayer might fall squarely into the category of fairy tale, I'm not sure a 'happily ever after' is possible..." Randy's voice trailed off as what he had said registered with him. There was no point in denying it, he realized. "I... I love you, Joan. With all that I am. With all that I aspire to be... Be sure about this. We're talking about forever."

He had barely finished speaking when she slid from his lap. He couldn't help but close his eyes against the pain searing through his undead heart. They snapped open when he felt her weight return to his lap.

Joan stared into Randy's amber eyes. She gave him a small smile as she draped one arm over his shoulder, her hand moving to caress the back of his neck. With the other hand she drew whispersoft patterns across the ridges of his forehead. Teasingly light, her fingers then danced down the bridge of his nose to trace the sharp angles of his cheekbones. When his tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips, her fingers traveled there, skating along the cool, damp surface.

When Randy's lips parted beneath her touch, she slipped a finger just inside, tracing the line of fangs still hidden by chill lips. She felt him shudder slightly as she traced the sharp contours with a fingernail. Licking her own lips, she drew closer to him.

Randy could feel the warmth of her breath across his face as she closed the distance between them. The caress of her fingers on his ridges had touched him more than he could have imagined. She flicked a nail across an incisor, making his whole body quake with desire. Love and lust roared through him as she managed an eloquent, wordless reply to his question. Yes. She knew what he was. And she wanted him.

Her lips were warm against his. Hot, even. And in constant motion. Trailing heat and moisture, as they pressed against his in an ardent kiss. Then her parted lips skimmed from jaw line to cheekbone, across the bumps and ridges of his forehead, then back down his nose. Returning to his she slipped the tip of her tongue inside, seeking his fangs.

Randy sat quietly under Joan's touch, wonderingly accepting her attentions to his ridges, and now fangs; both areas so sensitive to touch that he'd become startlingly aroused, achingly hard beneath her. As he let her control the pace of the kiss, he rested his hands on her hips, occasionally squeezing her in silent praise of her ministrations.

Joan reached for one of Randy's hands, intent on bringing it to her breast. The lapse caused her to nick herself against one of his fangs. At the taste of Joan's blood, Randy's body stiffened beneath hers, his hips coming briefly off the chair, arching his hardness against her. Her startled moan sounded more of arousal than fear, and as his hips settled back into the chair; Joan writhed against him, keeping her mouth pressed to his.

Randy savored the deep, wet, blood-tinged kiss. When Joan pulled back for much-needed oxygen, she could see the stain of red on his pale lips, a spot he removed with a flick of his tongue and an expression of near ecstasy. A shudder ran through her at sight. She licked her own lips, wincing slightly as she encountered the small wound.

Randy watched Joan's face as she tongued the small nick in her lip, worrying it with her tongue. It made him even harder, if that were possible. Randy reached up, gently placing a finger against the wound. He inhaled sharply at the feel of Joan's warm, rough tongue against his sensitive fingertip. She brought her hands up to hold his wrist, move his finger along her swollen bottom lip. She drew his finger back and forth along the moist inside of her lip and then stopped, taking the tip into her mouth, sucking at it. Joan met Randy's eyes over their clasped hands, her gaze hot, dark. When she nipped him with her strong white teeth, he snatched his finger from her mouth, replacing it with his tongue in a frenzied kiss.

For endless minutes they explored each other's mouths and soon, bodies. Until it was no longer enough.

"I..." he began, his voice a soft growl. "I need you." He pushed up against her softness as punctuation. "I need to be inside you... Please, Joan." He kissed her, then trailed his lips down her throat, hovering over her scar. "Let me have you again."

 

Part 4

"I need to be inside you... Please, Joan," Randy pleaded. He kissed her, then trailed his lips down her throat, hovering over her scar. "Let me have you again."

Joan shuddered at his words, and at the feel of the flat of his tongue as it swiped wetly along her neck. Unconsciously, instinctively, her head fell back, giving him better access to her throat, to the silken length of skin marred only by the bite mark. Randy tangled his hand in her golden hair, supporting her head as he kissed and licked at her scar. "Be mine, " he whispered against her skin.

"Yours," Joan breathed.

Randy pulled her in for a deep hard kiss while his adoring hands made their way over all of her body within his reach. He paused at her breasts, palming the soft mounds, running his thumbs over the hardened nipples. Then, suddenly, his hands were under her armpits, lifting her to stand alone.

Joan whimpered, a confused expression on her face as stepped back towards him, trying to sink back onto his lap. Randy held her at arms length, hands on her hips. He held her gaze, then looked past her to the book-strewn table. He cocked his head to the side, willing her to understand his wordless entreaty. He let a mischievous smile steal across his face as he pushed with one hand, pulled with the other, turning her to face away from him. She stood still for a moment, and then looked back at him over her shoulder. She smiled.

Randy returned her smile as he settled her into his lap. He could easily hear Joan's accelerated heartbeat. Pressing his chest to her back, he could feel the thudding as if it were his own heart. In truth, he thought, her heart beat for both of them; pumping blood that belonged to, and would sustain them both as Mates.

Randy closed his eyes as the sensation washed over him. Even as it was happening, Randy could not believe this was his life… er, unlife. From the beginning, as he and the others had sought to discover the extent of their lost memories, untangle the complex web of relationships among the members of The Band, Randy had been drawn to Joan. Then, with his discovery of her scar and their reactions to the apparent meaning… And now, Joan would be his. Again.

He nuzzled the back of her neck as he ran his palms down, then back up her thighs, pressing into her resilient flesh. One hand returned to her hip, fingers tucking into the pocket of her slacks. There, blunt nails scratched against her belly through the thin fabric, making her squirm atop him. The other hand found the hem of her blouse and slid beneath.

Joan drew in a sharp breath as cool fingers danced across her midriff. Randy nipped gently at the skin of Joan's nape as he explored the satin skin of her middle in broad strokes, fingertips slipping under the waistband of her slacks one moment, brushing the underside of her breast next. He marveled at the feel of her; the skin like warm, heavy satin, draped gently over the surprising fullness of her breasts, drawn tightly over the muscle and bone of her middle.

His fingertips fluttered against the edge of her cropped camisole then, gripping the hem, he began a slow pull. The silky fabric stretched, the lace edging scraping slowly across her hardened nipples. Joan moaned as Randy used her cami to deliciously abrade her skin. His other hand emerged from her pocket to slip beneath the thin cotton and cup the swell of one breast and then the other, pressing the sensitive tips against the textured fabric.

Joan's hands moved restlessly; one slipping up and down Randy's arm to where it caressed her breasts, the other kneading his hip and flank beneath her. She began to squirm against him, whimpering her need as he continued his attentions to her breasts.

"Shhhh, my love," he whispered. Her needy little movements atop him made him ache with want, quiver with need. But he was unwilling to rush this; it was too important. One hand fell from her breast to the damp fabric between her thighs. He traced the seam of her slacks tentatively, and then, when she keened "Pleeeeeaaaaasse!" he applied pressure in firm circular strokes. She responded by pulsing her lower body strongly into his hand.

Her uninhibited response to him was, by turns, a joy and a revelation. There continued to be a part of Randy that was surprised at how strongly Joan reacted to his touch. Determinedly shaking off the vague sense of being in unfamiliar territory, Randy concentrated on pleasing Joan. Continuing his massage of her mons, he bent again to her nape, scraping the delicate skin with his elongated incisors, drawing delicate red-line patterns against the pale flesh, then soothing his decorations with his cool tongue.

Randy could feel Joan's body vibrate with need; the scent of her arousal permeated the air around them. "Now, please, " Joan pleaded. She moved her hands to cover his, drew them together, pressing them harder against her breasts, then dragging them down and across her middle. Randy flexed his fingers as she moved their joined hands up her ribs and back to her breasts. "Now."

"Yes. Now," Randy said.

He pulled their hands away from her breasts, reaching towards the table in front of them. He stood slowly, leaning forward, extending their arms across the book-laden surface until Joan was pressed to the table, face down, held there by Randy's long, cool body. The heat of her body scorched him from palms to knees as he lay over her. He placed an openmouthed kiss on her scar before slowly drawing away to stand over her. A cool hand pressed briefly to the small of her back, so Joan remained there, looking to Randy expectantly.

Her golden hair glowing softly in the low light of the shop, her slender back arched slightly over the books beneath her, the rounded curves of her buttocks poised at the edge of the table; Randy caught an unneeded breath at the sight. Joan was a priceless gift to him, a sumptuous banquet awaiting his attention. She was his. Randy didn't dare try to analyze the complexity of the satisfaction that brought him. Bright and dark, generous and selfish; their joining, he realized, was somehow both conquest and surrender.

Joan's soft sound of inquiry brought Randy back from his contemplation of her. He reached around her middle, fingers slipping between her belly and the edge of the table to find the tab of her zipper. He placed soft kisses to the exposed skin between waistband and blouse as he eased her slacks, and the panties beneath, down to her knees. His palms stroked the silky skin of her behind, then traced the line that separated cheek and thigh. He could feel the heat pouring off of her in thick, heady waves. And, as he slipped a hand between her thighs, urging her to widen her stance, he felt the evidence of her desire dampen his fingers. At her plaintive whimper, he removed his hand and took just a moment to savor the tableau in front of him.

Joan lay upon the table, head resting on a forearm; with closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips parted to accommodate the panting breaths she was reduced to taking. She shifted her weight restlessly, arching almost imperceptibly against the unyielding table. The sight of her helpless arousal had Randy scrabbling at his own belt, wrenching the zipper down and dropping his own trousers in near panic.

Finally freeing himself from the constraint of his clothing, Randy stepped up to Joan, pressing himself against her. The feel of her hot skin against his cold hardness elicited a feral growl from Randy that startled them both. Recovering quickly from the surprise, and appearing even more aroused for it, Joan twisted halfway around and clasped a hand over Randy's buttock, keeping him fitted to her when he would have backed away.

"Yes," she stated emphatically, eyes locked on his. Again, she managed to astound Randy, in only the nicest way mind you, with her full acceptance of his demonic aspect. Her hand clenched, bruising him, as she waited for him to resume.

Reaching behind, he entwined their fingers and brought their joined hands forward, then placed her palm on the table, ensuring she could support the weight of her upper body. He placed his hand next to hers, draping himself along her shoulder and back. Then, with his other arm under her hips, he drew her onto her tiptoes and pushed forward, sheathing himself slowly in her burning core.

They sighed in unison as he filled her, completing them both in one slow, deliberate thrust. He could feel her internal muscles flutter around him at the invasion. She let out a low, keening wail that was clearly not of pain. Against his cool hardness she was so wet, but so tight. He could feel each striation inside her caress him as he pushed in, until he was fully seated in her, until he felt the cool flesh of his abdomen warming from contact her heat.

His face buried in the crook of her neck, panting though he did not need to breathe, Randy could not imagine anything more intimate that what he was currently feeling. Yet he knew there was more. And he longed to share it with Joan. Joan- the love of his unlife, the sun-kissed, super-powered savior of this small city where the Noble Vampire and his Vampire Hunter mate made earthshaking love, and vows of forever.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Mmmm," she murmured in assent. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, giving him access. Her head snapped upright again as she felt him shift her backwards… he was…

Sitting down.

"Ahhhhhhrrrrahh!" Joan's wail rang off the walls of the magic shop as Randy sank back into the chair, spreading his legs slightly. Budding frustration soon gave way to building ecstasy as their new position pressed Randy even deeper inside Joan's warm body.

Joan's fingers clenched on the edge of the table as Randy pulsed into her in slow, small movements. Randy slipped both hands under Joan's blouse and camisole, caressing her breasts. With a whimper, Joan raised her arms above her head, urging Randy to divest her of the impeding fabric

Free of her clothing, Joan's body was even more beautiful; lean, golden, lightly muscled and glowing with the exertion of their lovemaking.

He licked the perspiration gathering in the hollow of her collarbone, then paused to listen to the rush of blood just beneath that satin skin. It called to him, promising satiation of his deepest desires.

Determined to ignore the siren song of her blood just a little while longer, he slipped one hand down to where their bodies were joined, finding and rubbing her most sensitive spot. He continued to flex his hips, pressing into her slowly, deeply. Gently at first, then with more pressure from without and within, he brought her to the very edge of climax

As her mouth dropped open in a soundless moan, Randy grasped her chin with his other hand, turning his head to grind his mouth down on hers. He felt both his lip and hers part against his fangs.

The rich, coppery taste of her blood, so much more vibrant than his own, filled his senses. He could feel her warm little tongue worrying the nick in his own lip, drinking him in, even as he lapped the precious elixir from her mouth.

Joan broke the kiss, desperate for oxygen. She panted heavily, her naked breasts heaving as she drew breath. "Pleaaasssse," she whimpered against his lips. Her voice, her peaked nipples, the contractions inside her, all told she was poised on the razor's edge of desire. Pleasure that was almost pain, would be pain soon, if not consummated. "Bite. Me."

A shock of pleasure ran through Randy at her words. He moved his hand from her chin to her temple, tilting her head back and to the side. She sighed as she willingly bared her throat to him. He could see the pulse beneath the mark there, throbbing in time with his hardness within her. "Come for me, my love," he whispered, fangs at her neck. "My mate."

Joan stiffened on Randy's lap, burning pain and searing pleasure racing through her body as his fangs slipped into her neck. Randy could feel her inner muscles milking him rhythmically, even as his fangs did the same to her. At her scream of completion, his orgasm tore through him. He fought hard not to clamp his fangs down on her as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through his body.

Randy felt Joan shudder and then begin to grow limp against him. Easing his fangs from her neck, Randy wrapped his arms around her middle, holding her close.

"Joan?" he whispered, "Are you…?"

"Mmmm," she murmured sleepily, her head resting back on his shoulder.

Joan's hand drifted up to stroke Randy's face as he regained his human visage. Her fingers caressed his cheek, then fluttered down to where he had bitten her.

"Yours," Joan sighed, almost asleep. Randy licked at the small trickle of blood still coming from the two small wounds adorning her scar and smiled. And wondered where on the table to carve their initials. 

-END-