This story is a long, slow burn. I promise it gets smutty, with lots of male/female action, male/male/female action, bondage, denial, and other kinks, as well as lots of supernatural drama. Thank you for giving it a chance, and I hope you like it. -PDreadful
Seneca Mahon was bored. Dinner was taking too long, and Chip was talking about some type of fighting and muscle drinks, but she didn't hear what he was saying. Didn't care what he was saying. Wished he would shut up already. She just wanted to leave, go back to his place to feed on him, and then go home. Without him.
She knew it was shallow, but the only reason she was with him in the first place was that he had this amazingly perfect set of washboard abs. Like, drool worthy abs, male model abs. Had she mentioned that she really liked his abs? He was attractive enough, in a high school quarterback kind of way, with his sandy brown hair and smaller than average nose. He'd kept his body fit by becoming a personal trainer, which was good because he was kind of an idiot.
She decided right then. She was done, over him, even over those fantastic abs. He was too much work, his abs just weren't worth it anymore. There was a relief in knowing that tonight would be her last night with Chip. She could get through this terrible date, get through his stupid talking and childish narcissism. How someone could be so sickeningly nice, and yet so self-absorbed at the same time was beyond her.
She wished the waiter would bring more bread just so she could shove it into his stupid mouth. Why was she so terrible?
She swallowed down a stab of guilt. Chip was a nice guy. He called himself that all the time, and she supposed he was nice, in an overgrown child kind of way. He'd be a good boyfriend, probably? Maybe if he found a Norm girl who worshiped him as much as he worshiped himself. Seneca for sure wasn't what he wanted, he just didn't know it.
Tingling on her neck caught her off guard as Chip rambled on. She scratched it idly, which just intensified the sensation. A quick glance around the restaurant did nothing to ease the sensations, or expose who might be staring at her with such intensity. Despite what she saw, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her. The taste of her own blood as she bit the inside of her cheek calmed her slightly.
"Senny Baby?" Chip asked, his nickname for her grating on her last nerve. He reached out for her hand on the table and she pulled away, then tried to make it look natural.
"Ah, I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked, hiding her hands in her lap.
"No worries, Senny Baby. Looked like you were lost in your head."
"Yeah, I guess," she admitted, looking down at her plate.
"I was just asking if you wanted to do anything after this?"
"After this?"
"Like, going to the bar or something?"
She swallowed down what she wanted to say to him. "Sorry, Chip. I'm kinda tired today."
"Oh, yeah, no problem. I get it. Maybe just back to my place?"
"Yeah, sure," she agreed, hating herself nearly as much as she hated Chip right now. She shouldn't have let it go on this long, but when she said something he didn't want to hear he got all pouty, like she'd kicked a puppy in front of him. Once he got like that he would dwell on it until she babied him enough to restore his ego.
The tingling grew to something more like pins and needles. She scanned the room again, but everyone seemed to be engaged in their own little islands of conversation. She shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to shake the feeling of being watched, but it lingered on.
"Senny Baby?" Chip asked.
She forced herself back into the moment, guilt condensing even as she wanted to yell at him not to call her that. "Yeah, sorry. Just got a lot on my mind. What were you saying?"
"You haven't touched your food. You aren't hungry?" he asked, glancing at her nearly full plate of pasta and shrimp.
"Ah, yeah. I guess I'm just not that hungry right now," she said, fisting her hands into tight balls as she tried to work up the courage to break up with him. Actually, she was starving, but not for food. She was more than anxious for the meal that flowed beneath Chip's tanned skin. Her last bite, she reassured herself. "Like I said, I'm just kinda tired." How could she hurry this along? She had to work tomorrow.
"Did you want dessert?" he asked, even though she'd just said she wasn't that hungry.
She balled her hands up in her lap, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms as she prepared herself. "I, Chip, it's, ah..." She knew she couldn't leave yet. She hadn't fed in days, and she needed his blood to tide her over until she found another blood source.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. That look, his pathetic pouty face, it had her feeling terrible about herself. What was it about him that made her feel so bad?