Playing for Eeps

A/N: I did my best to make sure all the slang I used was period appropriate to the 1940s, my sincerest apologies for any anachronisms.

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Russian Roulette is an Immortal's Game. Anyone who tells you otherwise either has a death wish or is just flat-out fucking stupid. I've been both, I know the type. So, when this bitch with beady eyes and greasy blonde hair came into the warehouse, everyone could smell the mortality on her like the sound of a pulse in a den of vampires. Not that any of us were that kind of immortal. Well, one was but he had his own blood dealer that worked in the hospital.

Everyone stared at her. "I'm here to play Blackjack, am I in the wrong room?"

That was when the door closed behind her and I heard Andre lock it firmly. No way out now.

"Pull up a chair sweetheart, Mister Miles will deal you in." The Creole Bastard was always chewing on that stupid toothpick, the sound of it was grating to my ears. I glanced at my vampire friend and motioned for him to follow me into one of the backrooms.

I watched as he closed the door behind him, taking off my hat. "I need a hit, Johnny."

"So soon?"

"Yeah... I'm jonesing real bad. I'm starting to get sensory fried from all the gum-popping and toothpick-chewing and..."

Johnny held up a pale hand and unbuttoned the top buttons of his sleeve. "How much this time?"

"Oh, c'mon Johnny, the wrist? You know I like the more Southern flavors..."

The vampire's social mask almost slipped when he licked at his thin lips, a nervous habit when he felt his fangs want to slide out. He glanced at his watch, "Make it quick, okay? I don't want to get caught."

I watched as his hands went to unfasten his belt and then drop his pants. I scrambled to my knees before him - it was almost shameful but I didn't care - I had to have him. I took him in my mouth and I fed on his hard dick, sucking like there was no tomorrow. It took about ten minutes before he finally lost control and I got a proper meal of both blood and semen, a demon's delight.

He pulled himself together and smoothed a hand over his flaxen hair, slick with some type of product to hide the fact that it was really fucking curly without it. "That needs to hold you over for at least three weeks. I'm a vampire, I have limits that even humans don't. You really should find a human to feed from."

I made a disapproving face. "I need immortal energy. I get all the humanity I can stand when I taste your blood since you feed on them. I can't stomach any more than that."

"Then remind me to take you to New Orleans, sometime. There are more of us down there if only you'd be willing to leave your beloved New York. Come on, I got one-hundred-and-fifty large for the Roulette Game in an hour. I just bought a new Colt.  Real beauty, I can't wait to break it in."

And so we rejoined the festivities. That was how it was. Every night. For weeks.

Neither of us had any idea how much that beady-eyed bitch would fuck up everything we loved and valued about our eternal existence. No idea, until it was almost too late.

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It was a long trek home when I came across one of the works of  the infamous New York City Vandalist. Those who followed him called his vandalism, 'art.' I'm sure some  Warhol-obsessed, snub-nosed, rich freak is paying some journalist to record all the quips into a dime store pulp novel, along with real photographs of the work itself. If not, in some media producer's wallet trying to eventually make some documentary about what most thought of as common property destruction.

He used fire to tag the walls so that you couldn't wash them clean or paint over them. No, it was ingrained in the fucking brick. I was almost impressed. Okay, I was impressed. I was so impressed, I became obsessed with finding him. I had to know who he was and if he was like me, an Immortal.

And finally, on the night of December fourth, I had my chance. I was on my way outside to take a piss because I didn't want to wait in the long ass line and my bladder was about to just use my pants when I smelled smoke, and --ignoring my bladder for a second-- I followed the scent of it. Some ways down the alley, I saw him and he saw me.

He was just a twink in ragamuffin clothes. His eyes were like bright blue flames and his hair was under a beanie cap. He smiled at me.

"You're the one," I said.

"Are you going to tell on me?" He asked, his voice older than he looked. It was heavy, deep,  and accented in a way I couldn't pinpoint and the way he sang the words out at me was overt flirtation. His voice was like a teasing flame in a cold world that was starving for warmth.

"Not if you buy me a drink I won't." I felt clever for my retort.

He seemed to think so too.  He smirked, "Just a drink?" He asked. I could hear the innuendo rising in his voice.

"Well, we can start with a drink... and see where it goes, how's that?"

"Hm. You can do better than that, but I'll let it pass this time," he flirted back.

My bladder pulsed reminding me of the reason I came out here in the first place. I nearly doubled over trying to hold it in. When I could stand more upright again, he was gone. I didn't worry too hard about how he was going to find me to get that drink and just went against the wall he tagged, and boy did I need to whizz.

Once I was done, I looked up at what he had carved into the wall. It said,  'Don't Be a Hero In Someone Else's Story;  Always add Olives On Your Pizza.'

I laughed. He always writes the most chaotic nonsensical shit. But something about that in itself, the absurdity in the bleak world, made me smile. And maybe that's why he did it, sowing hope in an otherwise hopeless world.

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The taste of the metal in my mouth was making me hard, even before I pulled the trigger. The disappointing click made me lightheaded. I slowly pulled it out and then passed the gun to the person on my left.

Watching his body open in a wound and swallow the bullet made me clench my jaw. I should have doubled down, but it would have taken me six weeks to heal an upper spinal wound and Johnny was overseas in Spain these days, working on some special novel or some shit. I was trying to wait the three weeks he requested, but I was getting restless. I could have used the pain of a bullet tonight, but turns out Samael got it again this time. If I had an extra thirty grand to throw down - on top of the fifty to enter for supplying the weapon - I'd be fine. Unfortunately, I spent my last big bills tonight. I would have to give Montgomery a visit.

Now, Montgomery was the sketchiest bookie ever to walk the state of New Hampshire. He was always fucking someone or on his way to fuck someone. He had a higher libido than I did, and I am an incubus. The long drive to his three-room shack in a sea of tall trees was several hours too long, but I needed the cash so this was my alternative. I refuse to go on the straight and narrow. I would go full homicidal and that was something I was actively trying to avoid. I am an immortal, I would not want to serve a life sentence in some mundane lock-up. I'd never leave and it would be bad for my community. We thrive on the down-low. Once the mortals know for sure we exist, our times of peace would be long gone and I did not want the blame for that.

I could hear the broad screaming her lungs out when I pulled up. I stood by the door and calmly waited for them to finish fucking, because I may be a demon, but I have manners. Never disturb a man when he's balls deep in someone. Not unless you want to deal with the irritability and agitated mood from not letting him finish.

"Ohhhh, Monty, you certainly know how to treat a girl right," I heard the broad saying. She had one of those twangy, native New Englander accents. Probably Boston, I couldn't tell. I heard her footsteps click-clacking as she came to the door. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, then she smiled and very daintily walked away. She wasn't wearing practically anything, just some thin frock that made her tiny tits press noticeably through the fabric. It went just long enough to cover her ass and her heels made her petite frame look almost cartoony; especially the way she wobbled like she was either still feeling the aftershocks of cumming or she didn't know how to walk in the shoes.

"Sour Screw, what can I do for you?"  Monty greeted me. I turned my head away from the woman walking and gave a crooked smile to the bookie I came to visit. "Hey there, Monty. I was wondering if you had any jobs that could benefit from my skill set. I am a bit low on cash."

"Roulette again?" he asked as he waved me inside. Thankfully, he was covered up in a silk robe. I could smell the stickiness of that woman all over him though. It was making my Hunger louder in my head and I tried to ignore it as I walked deeper into his humble abode. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I watched as Monty arranged a small pile of white powder on a glass table into lines.

"Well, it's funny you should inquire about your skill set. There was something that came up on my radar a few days ago when I was visiting Chelsea. I know how much you love New York, so this may be right up your alley,"  he said, then bent down to snort a line quickly before tipping his head back with a sigh. "Oh that's good," he groaned, feeling the effects nearly immediately.

Then he shuffled the short distance into a small kitchen with an attached office. "Some woman was looking for some help on this bank run. She needs funds to start this organization and she's too impatient to go to the legit channels. No one came to mind who would be good at a quick in and out other than you, Dante. If you're interested, you get forty percent. That should be more than enough to hold you over for at least a few months, right?"

"So, it's just a snatch-and-grab on some bank?  Monty, any infant can do that."

"No, not just any bank, Donny. She wants every bank in the Manhattan area to get milked.  That's why I thought of you. You don't necessarily have the same limitations as any mortal infant with a big shiny gun and a phony passport. Right?"

"Every bank in Manhattan?"

"That's right."

"And I only get forty percent?"

"Don't you go gettin' greedy, Donny. That's forty percent of all the banks in Manhattan. That's no small chump change."

I sighed again. "Fine I'll do it, but I want to bring in my own guys. There ain't no way I can do this all on my own."

"Sure, sure. It's your show. Here, this is her contact information."

I took the card he grabbed off his desk. "Betty Bulgaria."

"An alias, I'm sure. But you're no stranger to those, are ya?" Monty said with a smirk before tilting his head at me knowingly. "You need a hit, don't you? I can see the need in your eyes.  How long has it been?"

"Just two weeks. I'll be alright."

"You know what your problem is, don't you? Feeding on that vampire all the time. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you're in love with the bastard. Gotta be careful or they'll start callin' you Coffin Bait."

"I can't stand humans. You can have all of them. They just give me indigestion."

Monty laughed, "Indigestion, sure. You like your food dead and cold. I like mine alive and writhing. But I'll tell you what, I don't trust vampires. So whenever that bastard said he'd be back in town, I don't trust it. And I don't want you driving up here until you get that job done. I'm sick of the bitch breathing down my neck about getting some quality criminals to help her fucking holier-than-thou mission. So, here is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna lend you my girl, Melinda. You'll like her. She works up in the whorehouse outside of Queens just a little ways. Quality demon chi is what you need. She ain't a chi-feeder like you. She's just a demon bitch, but she's a Madam of that whorehouse. It's only a whorehouse to those in the know, like you and me, but the Mundanes... They think it's just some dive bar that serves really good hangover waffles."

"What's it called?" I was getting hard already, thinking about this demon.

"Dirty Caliber Café."

I smiled. "Sounds like my kind of place."

"Yeah, I thought so. Kinda surprised you ain't been there already. Now get out of here, I've done enough charity for your needy ass. I need to take a long hot shower before Francesca gets here. She'll have me occupied the rest of the day. Take care of yourself, Donny."

I smirked my thanks, left that Shack in a Sea of Trees, and drove the long stretch back to my Beloved New York. If I drove fast enough I could visit this Melinda he was talking about. Fuck, was I hungry! And I could really use a drink, and that... made me think of that tagging twink and his engraving wit of fire graffiti. I was bone hard so it was hard to drive and focus on the road. All I wanted was to just feed and get my dick wet. Maybe Monty was right, I should lay off the vampires. They were an unreliable species, but fuck me if they didn't taste fucking amazing.

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The Dirty Caliber Café was the dive bar of all dive bars, but I knew a demon when I saw one. The waitress wiping down the counter was definitely hell-made and a tall morsel of mayhem if I ever saw one. Taller than any woman I ever saw this side of Gehenna and fucking perfect besides. Distantly, I wondered just how much was glamour and how much was... just demon dame beauty.

"Martini. Onions Not Olives," I said as I slid into the seat. I figured while I'm here I might as well get a damn drink. One lousy Gibson won't affect me at all. She turned without a word, hung the towel on a rack behind her, and went to work on making my drink.

"I was recommended this spot by an acquaintance of mine by the name of Montgomery. Said that someone named Melinda makes a damn good waffle. Do you happen to know if she's working tonight?" I asked.

She slid the drink in front of me, then went back to wiping down the table, not saying a word to me. Well damn, talk about lousy service. I took a sip of the drink, it was perfect. Small mercies, I suppose. I still needed to feed, damn it. I nursed my drink as long as I could. I could hear some deal going down in the back, some pool shootin' hustlers on the other end.

"What do you want with Melinda?" she finally spoke to me. When I fumbled to reply, she came over and bent low to look me in the face. "You said Monty referred you to her?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"How do you know Monty?"

"We go way back; all the way through Hell and no sight of Heaven on any horizon."

"Why didn't you call him your friend?"

"Heh, Monty? Friends? No, it would never happen. Monty fucks and that is in every sense of the word."

She smiled then. "You must be Dante."

"That's right."

"Shift change is in thirty minutes. Meet me out back. We discuss things then."

I fought the big grin I wanted to break into and just nodded and finished my drink. I paid for it with cash and then went out back to wait for her.

The minutes passed like a summer heat wave and I even had time to take a piss against the wall again. Sometimes, I don't know what I'd do if I were born with the other equipment. Having to squat to piss seems so inconvenient. I much enjoy just whipping it out and aiming true. Much more efficient. Same with other things too, like feeding. Fuck you, Johnny, you stoic bastard, making me miss your pasty undead ass. I felt myself gritting my teeth like I wanted to turn them into dust when I heard her open the door and walk out into the alley where I was waiting for her.

She was tall with hair that was midnight blue, wearing not much but some towel material that went to her mid-thigh and covered her breasts. "Monty said you needed someone to feed from for this long job you got in the works."

"Yeah."

"So, what's my cut going to be? If you get only forty, I think I'm entitled to at least half."

"So we both get twenty?"

"Yeah."

I thought about it for a moment. It was fair, but it also meant I would have to go back to Monty once I ran out of funds sooner. "Alright, deal."

She smirked. "What kind of demon are you? That's not how you seal a deal. And you didn't even haggle me, you really are an amateur."

I chuckled. "You want to seal it in blood?"

"Are you into pain then?"

My throat was suddenly dry. "Y-Yeah... a little."

"Why don't we seal the deal with your first feed, then? You can do anything you want to me, just don't call me Mommy. I hate that shit."

"Me too," I said.

"Good."

I stood there awkwardly. She chuckled, "Well? Are you hungry or not?"

"Right. Right, yeah... starved."

Closing the distance, I kissed her on the mouth. It was the blandest feed I ever had. Maybe I really did like dick over pussy? Shit, and now I have this contract demon who is taking half my cut on a job that will take at least a few weeks or months to do.

She broke the kiss. "Are you just going to kiss me or are we going to fuck?" she asked in a blunt tone. I hesitated and she scoffed. "This deal isn't sealed till one of us gets off and you are fucking fed. Kissing isn't doing the trick, you're barely drawing in on me."

I fumbled for language.

"You think this is my first time giving my chi to some Incubus? It's not. So stop acting like a damn human and feed."

"I... I'm not, uhm... I'm not sure this is going to work."

"Why not?"

"I... well, you're beautiful, but I've... got a craving for something different if you catch my drift"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, I get it," she said, shaking her head and making a sort of scoffing laughter before she took my hand and shoved it between her legs.

"Oh!"

"Yeah... Now feed, so we can seal this deal. I don't like leaving deals open for too long, it makes me a bit twitchy."

"Right..." I backed her to the wall and lifted her skirt. Her dick was uncut and still soft.  She seemed to catch on to what I was doing as soon as I got down to my knees. She spread her legs a bit more and held her clothes up, looking down at me as I took her in my mouth.

She groaned softly as I felt her grow hard in my mouth. Once she was fully hard, she started to buck her hips into my mouth, and I gotta say, that was what made my hunger reach for her.  Feeling her hand on my head, guiding herself in, those soft little grunt noises she was making... I was gulping down that energy like the greedy, starved thing I was, and before I knew it, fresh spunk splat against my tongue and all along my teeth. I swallowed it before letting her slide out limp and lazily trailing my drool out my mouth. I felt a little drunk, to be honest. Demon chi is pretty potent stuff.

"Deal is only half sealed. You have to cum too," she said, then made a vague, impatient motion at me.

"Drop 'em," she said. "Your drawers. Drop them so I can get you off."

Christ on stilts!! I fucking fumbled to get my pants down and she got more impatient and pushed me against the wall. She grabbed it and started stroking it hard, using her other hand to cover my eyes. "Think of the hottest person in the world. Imagine it's their hand on you, and they need you to cum. They want to rub that spunk all over their face and lick it off their fingers..."

I felt my breath come out raspy.

"Yeah, that's it..."

She jerked me faster and for the life of me, I wanted him.  If anyone ever called me on it, I would deny it faster than lightning, but I wanted that little twink of a fire starter. I wanted him so bad I shot my load and oozed it all over her fingers. I felt some light glow around us.

"Deal's done. I'm yours, your personal food slut until this mission is complete."

She took a step back. I felt a little lightheaded as I scrambled to pull up my pants.

"So what's the first move?"

"Del Mario's Den," I said. "I gotta grab my guys to help me with this mission, can't do it all on my own."