All Part Of The Job

Disclaimery-type-things:

This is a fun little story about a slayer and a vampire, they meet, and lemony goodness ensues. Both of the characters in this story are my own creations. Please do not use them for anything other than your own amusement.

Reviews: They're the things that brighten my day. Them and Oreos, but that's another story.

Here we go...

As I walk towards the dining hall, my leather boots making no sound on the worn cobblestone floor, I feel the goose bumps rise along my bare arms.

I know exactly what it means, *Stupid* I chide myself *You should've ASSUMED vampire. You should've prepared better*

I take stock of what I'm carrying, *Silver dagger and four stakes in my belt, vial of holy water in the pocket inside the ankle of my boot. My Revolver with wood tipped bullets, specially blessed by Father O'Halloran, the guy who thinks he's my boss, and a large bubble of unease rising in my chest.*

I force it down and square my shoulders as I enter the dining hall.

He's sitting at the head of the table, inhumanly beautiful, almost too much so to be a man. I mentally slap myself *He's NOT a man. He's a monster. One that you've been hired to kill.*

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his full lips, "So. You're my assassin." His voice is smooth and dark, I feel a flutter in the pit of my stomach, my mouth is suddenly dry, but other parts of me are suddenly wet. I nod, "I am."

He smiles, fangs glinting in the candlelight, "Then you'd best get on with it." He says, saluting me with his wineglass.

I reach for one of the stakes in my belt.

Suddenly he's standing behind me, he snakes an arm around my waist and bats the stake out of my hand, "You don't want to kill me little one." He purrs in my ear, "Not when I can show you things you've never even dreamed of."

He lifts me easily and sits me on the table. He leans in and flicks his tongue across the pulse point on my throat. Then slowly unzips my vest, revealing the fact that I like to hunt without a bra.

He cups my breasts gently, lowering his head to suckle at each of them in turn. He leaves a trail of feather-light kisses down my stomach, his fingers making quick work of my belt and the fly of my pants.

A delicious shudder runs down my spine as he slides my pants to the floor and lays me back across the table.

I gasp as he nips at my clit, then soothes it with the tip of his tongue.

He slides back up to suck at my hardened nipples, sliding his fingers down my near-dripping slit and rolling my clit in slow circles with his thumb.

"Enjoying yourself my little assassin?" He asks, sliding his fingers into me, brushing against my center. I can only whimper in response. He smiles, "That's what I thought you'd say."

I can barely focus as he leans down to suck at my clit, twisting his fingers inside me.

My back arches as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, lapping at my wetness. I slide my hands under the small of my back to support myself. My fingers brush against the lump of my revolver, still in its pocket on the inside of my vest.

My eyes lose focus as he pinches my clit and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, my already frazzled nerves don't know whether to register the sensation as pleasure or as pain, but I'm enjoying it either way.

Then he's gone. I whimper again.

I hear the silken rustle of his pants sliding to the floor. Suddenly he's above me, his strong hands pinning my arms to the table, rendering me helpless.

He growls fiercely as he thrusts into me. The feeling of being filled is equal parts pain and ecstasy and it nearly drives me over the edge.

He continues forcing his way into me, going deeper with each thrust. I can hear myself gasping, moaning, all but begging him not to stop

He scrapes the points of his fangs along my throat before plunging them into my jugular. The sudden searing pain sends me spiraling into orgasm, my hand claws at the tablecloth, my back arches, pressing me against his cool chest.

All of my senses are on overload and I feel rather than hear the explosion.

With some part of my brain, I remembered to draw my revolver and I had just sent one of the wood-tipped rounds up into his ribcage.

He howls in pain and reels back, giving me a clear shot at his alabaster chest. I shoot him twice more in the heart and once in the head.

His blood sprays across my face and chest. He crumples to the floor, dissolving as I come down from my climax.

After I catch my breath I slide off the table and pull my pants back up, buckling them easily.

I lick a few droplets of his thick dark blood from my lips, savoring the flavor as I zip up my vest, folding the collar down and holstering my revolver.