Chapter 44

~~Jack~~

Back at the burned apartment building, alone this time, and using his free time as well. Course, Invictus didn’t exactly mandate hours, but you were expected to work a certain amount. Work above that, accomplish things, and you moved up in rank and social standing; which was like gold in the Invictus. And he wanted to figure this out, who burned down this building, who killed Barry.

He stood atop the ceiling of a neighboring building. The sun had just set, and he only had a couple hours before he was supposed to visit Antoinette, to join her. They were going to the ball together. Ugh, butterflies in his stomach refused to settle. Maybe some work would calm his nerves, so he decided to spend more time on the investigation. With dusk only having just passed, there were still plenty of people out on the street, even in this part of town, so he kept to the rooftops. Up here, he could hide well enough, even without Amanda. And this close to North Side, this part of the city was pretty dark anyway.

He got down on a knee — careful of his suit — and looked across the way to the ashes and ruins of the destruction. Still surrounded by police tape, still being investigated by the humans. Perhaps they’d find something? If they did, Jessy would notify him; Invictus had their eyes and ears on everything the police touched, after all. No word though, and likely that the police wouldn’t find anything anyway, not with no evidence. A burned down old apartment building wasn’t exactly uncommon.

But maybe the animals knew more?

He looked around from his perch. No rats. Well, maybe there was, but it was dark and he was high up while rats preferred the ground. But, there were three animals cities always had in droves. Rats, cockroaches, and crows. Other animals too, but those three would stand the test of time and outlive them all. Cockroaches were just resilient to the point of absurdity, but rats and crows were smart, damn smart. And they made the perfect informants of the animal kingdom.

He looked around and behind him. A couple of crows stood upon the ceiling with him, upon its ledge and emitting the occasional caw. When he turned to face them, they both looked over their shoulder to look back at him, complete with a couple ruffles of their feathers.

He took an unneeded breath, and met the gaze of one of the crows. Feral whisper, Julias had called it. Bringing up the beast in the gut, taking it to the surface, using its animal nature to communicate with other animals. He did not like the beast, did not like the predatory impulses it sent him, did not like how it forced him to think of other people in terms of dangerous or not, food or not, competitor or not. And, when hungry enough, the beast took over and sent the vampire into a frenzy. The aftertaste of its presence was forever on his tongue, and he could just barely make out the blurry memories of the insanity. Almost a year ago, the hazy images in his brain showed him grabbing an innocent women, drinking her dead, and dragging her corpse up a building like some sort of leopard taking its fresh kill into the trees.

Nope, don’t go down that road. It was a long time ago, and every vampire had to deal with frenzying. Many of them didn’t really care if they killed an innocent in the process; just part of being Kindred, losing your humanity, your connection to the human race. The fact it still ate at him just meant he still had that humanity, and he should keep it that way.

Another breath, and he stepped toward the crow. “Come here.” Spoken in English, but the words carried the animal power from his chest, from the strange beast lurking in his ribs and always on the prowl, looking for escape. The two crows looked at each other, then him, like he was the craziest two-legged thing in the world.

Until he came closer, and said it again, vitae flowing through his dry veins and bringing out the feral whisper within. “Come here.”

He could almost see the dawning of awareness in their black eyes. Beautiful creatures, crows, and the way they held themselves always denoted a degree of analysis, he thought, even before he was Kindred. And now, as he crossed the gap between animal and vampire, he came closer, and closer, and let the voice of his beast come to the surface.

“Come here.”

The two crows hopped over to him. He smiled, held out his arm, and both birds flapped their wings until they’d found comfortable spots on his forearm to perch. Excellent. Not so excellent for his suit, with bird claws digging into the sleeves, but he’d live.

“How much do you two remember about the fire that happened here?”

The two birds made some quiet clicking noises. And, through some madness that would forever surprise him, the beast lurking in his chest listened. It relayed the information, parsed it, turned it into human concepts his brain could understand. But even with that, the birds communicated with their senses, not words. And once the beast in him turned it into senses like his own, he had to make sense of it.

Crows had great memories, he knew that. Latest research suggested they had memories that lasted far longer than a day, that they could remember faces, that they could teach each other how to use tools, and a host of examples of intelligence beyond that of most animals. Not only that, but crows had better eyesight than humans. A smart Ventrue — or any Kindred who used the discipline animalism — would start to use crows more and more as they grew in power, grew in strength, grew in their ability to command multiple crows.

According to Julias, he was such a Ventrue. The ego stroking made him smile, and he smirked down at the two crows as they relayed information back to him.

Daytime, sunlight. Christ how long it’d been since he’d felt those sensations like the crows did every day, warmth and brightness. He forced back the obvious imagery of life, and through it into the details. People, people below the crows as the two birds watched from on high, up in the air where it was safe, where the air was cleaner and the noises were too. Easier to tell where things were, what things could be eaten if conveniently dropped by the humans.

So much more vivid than the rats. The rats couldn’t see anything, but had a billion smells and touch sensations to share with him. The birds were far closer to humans, where sound was important, but vision was of utmost importance. And that, his brain could make better sense of, turn into more useful information as he filtered through the hundreds of men and women that walked by in their memories.

Unfortunately, as much as crows had great memories, they weren’t looking for what he was looking for. They didn’t have the context or need to remember things specifically in the ways humans did, so the onslaught of images, of people, of fabric covering skin, of food, and honking horns from the metal cages on wheels, wasn’t broken down into weighted data. Too much of everything, without anything.

The birds clucked a few times at him.

“How about ... four people, two wearing trench coats—fabric stuff that reaches the feet. Two men, two women. They ... perhaps seemed dangerous?”

The crows looked around, at each other, at him, and made clicking noises a few more times. A memory, four people, standing around in evening just before dusk. They were near, and they were looking at the building. Two trench coats, two leather jackets, two men and two women. The crows had stayed away from them, and watched them for a little longer than the other humans walking around. Bingo.

“This was before the fire? Have they shown up since?” he said. The birds clicked a few noises. They didn’t know. “How about ... the fire. What do you remember of the day of the fire?”

More clicks and some ruffling feathers. The birds shifted on his arm, claws scraping against the fabric, and nodded their heads up and down several times as they dug through more memories. People walking around, nothing happening, nothing special, just the building randomly catching on fire after time. When the fire caught, people came running out, but not the four people the crows recognized as dangerous. Those four were nowhere to be seen.

The fact they recognized them as dangerous though, was definitely a step in the right direction toward suspects. The only lead they had about the fire was growing to be a good lead.

“Alright, I have a party to go to. I ... actually, you two, I want you to do me some favors.” The two birds ruffled their feathers a few times, and waited. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you food for a job well done.” That got some raised beaks and head turns from them. Just because he was forcing their cooperation didn’t mean he had to be a jackass about it. “Great. Now, there’s a ball I’m going to, and you two, are going to be my lookouts.”

He was actually pretty excited. Nervous, butterflies in the stomach, but excited too. This would be the first ball he’d be going to that was open invitation for all paranormals in the city. Paranormals, was that PC? He laughed at the thought as he got out of the car and stepped onto the stairs of the Elysium tower.

This would be the first ball he’d be going to with Antoinette as his date as well, like, on the arm date, arriving together date. So excited, and terrified. He already had enough unwanted attention from everyone due to the good and bad things that kept landing on him, and this was going to put him in the center of the light in front of nearly everyone. Everyone. But it was her, his lover, the most beautiful and amazing god damn person he’d ever known, and holy shit he was excited to walk into that ball with her.

Such a change from so long ago, a lifetime ago, when he couldn’t even make eye contact with other Kindred older than him. He smiled, nodded to the security staff on his way through the tower, and down the stairs into his love’s fortress. Different man now. A different man, a diff—

Holy mother of god.

“Ah, you are here a touch early, my love.” The goddess smiled up at him from down a few stairs.

She was wearing the dress, the dress she’d described, the dress he thought for sure would be far too revealing for an actual ball. It was a tight dress, thin white fabric that hugged her curves so taught he could tell it was custom fitted to her shape. Sleeves, backless, with plunging cleavage that went down, down, down, and down until it stopped a single inch above where he knew her sex started.

The goddess chuckled, and did a slow spin, turning her head over her shoulder to watch him as he watched her. The skirt was indeed long, reaching her ankles, and split at the hip up all the way to her ribs. No underwear. A few bits of subtle white string held the sides tight to her waist, and a single string held her cleavage together ... barely ... not really. The cleavage of the dress pulled apart so wide, it cut straight down across the center of each breast; a hint of her pink aerola were visible.

“I ... I uh ... not going to be able to keep my eyes off you, if you’re wearing that.”

“Oh my sweet little Ventrue, then I am afraid tonight will be difficult for you. Many Kindred will be exposing their skin, and many more will be bringing thralls and ghouls to either show off their harem, or to share for drink.” She stepped up the stairs, each showing the white shoes that had a shine and sparkle to them Jack did not recognize, but figured meant they were super expensive. Hard to admire the shoes, when his eyes were locked onto how the dress completely exposed the inside contours of her breasts. It hugged them tightly, tight enough the dress showed the shape of her nipples against the thin fabric.

“Definitely. Definitely in trouble. That said, don’t think I’ll be ... taking my eyes off of you.”

“Well that is absurd. There are many beautiful men and women to appear at the ball, and I fully expect you to take a peek at each of them. The women at least.” Chuckling all the more, she came to stand beside him, and leaned forward a little to bring her lips down to his. Leaning like that made her breasts hang down, and a touch more of the edge of her nipples threatened to slip free of the hugging fabric. “You look delightful in this suit. A fashion success if I do say so, and undoubtedly Julias’s choice? You do carry the tone and texture of a fresh Kindred of this era, wearing this.”

“That was his goal, yeah. I ... just ... god damn.” He really couldn’t stop staring. She was still leaning forward, in the way she often did to draw his eyes to her cleavage. But the dress’s fabric was so thin, hugged her so tight, and revealed so much skin, he felt like he was looking at naked Antoinette. And he loved naked Antoinette.

“Ah, I am sorry my love. I did not think this would be so troublesome for you?” She reached down, took his hand, set it on her stomach, and guided his hands down the deep cleavage. Soft, her skin was so soft, and alabaster, and perfect. And when she guided his fingers down to where the cleavage finally stopped, she slid his fingers down past the fabric a single inch while still against her skin. His fingertips found the folds of her pussy, and he groaned as he shivered at the touch of them.

“This dress,” she said, “is made for you, as well as for myself, my love. To excite and entice you. But I feel it has worked too well, and we must deal with that.” She pulled his hand free of her delicate folds, and brought it up to her bosom. First one, and then the other, she guided them along the undersides of her heavy, hanging breasts, and Jack got to see for himself how easy it was to nudge the dress aside to reveal both of them fully. Very, very easy.

And as he shivered with the sensation, she blushed life. Immediately her nipples began to harden, and she grinned down at him as she pressed his back to the wall on the stairway. Soon he was pinned to the black marble, staring up at the goddess leaning over him, and her breasts still dangling underneath her torso into his palms. The size of them spilled over his hands completely, dwarfing and covering them, and the silky softness of their great weight had his knees shaking.

“R-Right now?” he said.

“I must take care of you, little Ventrue, so your wandering eyes do not run away with you. Now, blush.” An order, the steel in her voice coming through, just a little bit of it, just enough to give her sultry French accent some power. Power that had him melting.

He blushed life, and his cock jumped to life against his suit pants.

“Will uh ... Ashley and Julee be coming?” he said. Couldn’t keep his eyes on Antoinette’s eyes, not with her still leaning forward so the weight of her breasts pressed down against his palms. He squeezed them, gently, just enough to feel how they were supple, how they compressed and gave in to the shape of his fingers. Perfect pillows.

“Non. I would prefer to keep them separate from Kindred life. They are my muses, not my spies.” She reached down, and as he continued to fondle her, she undid the button of his pants. A moment later, his cock was sticking out through the flap of his boxers, and she took it into her grip while her other hand stayed to his shoulder.

She was jerking him off, in the stairway, maybe ten feet from where it opened up into the main lobby of her tower. The goddess couldn’t care less if someone spotted them, at all.

She grinned down at him, one of those dangerous grins, and turned him around. With his back to her chest, she leaned down far until her chin was on his neck, her bare breasts pushed to his back and nipples pressing hard enough on the suit for him to feel it. She pushed him forward, toward the wall, so he had no choice but to reach out to brace his hands against it while she pressed her body against him, reached around his waist, and took his cock into both hands.

“Keep your hands upon the wall, my delicious little Ventrue,” she said, “or I will have to punish you.”

He nodded, and turned his head a little to smile at the succubus. With her chin on his shoulder, turning his head made their cheeks rub together, and she chuckled before she squeezed his cock hard enough to make him wince.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good.” Her hand squeezed on the base of him, worked a single inch of his length in a stroke, while the other teased fingertips along the tip. The heat was already starting to build, and the woman knew how to milk him of the rising warmth like he was kindling in a fire. “Hundreds of Kindred and kine will see you, my love. And at this ball, I am sure some romance is encouraged, yes? You and I will kiss, and touch, and for all of Dolareido’s night populace to see. They will know that you are mine.” Her lips turned, and her fang grazed along his jawline as she nibbled on it. “You are mine.”

Hers. He could almost feel the power dripping from her words, warm, thick, like blood trickling down from her lips onto his body.

“Yours.”

The Prince purred into his ear, and squeezed his cock a little harder, before she reached up with one hand to pull her mane of hair over his shoulder. Soon the long, flowing waves of white were pouring over his chest and down to graze along where her hands again wrapped his length. He never asked about her white hair much, beyond that first meeting; seemed like it might have been rude, since she didn’t look nearly old enough for white hair. He loved her hair though, so damn pretty and wavy and long and soft to the touch. And, as she continued to stroke him, she let her hair tickle along his cock.

One of her hands drifted higher again, and found his throat. She circled the front half of it, more even, and forced his head to tilt to the side to expose his neck, like prey might when forced by a hungry vampire. Again she started to suckle on his neck, played with his earlobe, and kept her hand on his throat as she stroked him faster, until he could feel the growing waves of heat building between his legs, underneath his testicles. A drop of his precum rose to the tip of his length, and Antoinette purred louder as she slid her finger to the end of his cock, and rubbed the wetness into his foreskin. Wet, she peeled the skin away to expose the ripe head of his cock, and spread more of his precum along his glans. Sensitive, so damn sensitive, the ripe, pink skin of his cock’s head, and she caressed it with just the perfect amount of wet pressure to make the tingling sparks dance through his whole body.

Once the head of his shaft was thoroughly coated, she gripped the center of his length once more, and started to stroke him with a harder, stronger grip. A tiny groan worked its way out of him, and immediately, the devil slowed her strokes down to almost nothing.

“How many times have you cum for me, my love?” She slid her fingertips along his length, teasing her claws on the veins and skin of it, letting his fluids settle. She knew all the signs of impending orgasm, and knew when to stop so he could catch his breath and let the rising cum ease back again.

“I ... I dunno, um ... must be hundreds.”

“And every time, the feel of your muscles flexing, the sight of your pleasure, the sounds you make, stirs within me a great need.”

“You ... m-maybe we could—”

“No.” Her grip tightened, and she brought her hand to the base of his cock to leave it there, squeezing tightly, making his cock stand outright and ready to burst. “To satisfy me will take time, time we do not have. I will have to content myself with yours.” Again, her long hair tickled along his cock, and she made sure the angle of her grip caused the white waves to trace along his glans. Until she pushed it more forward, and started to stroke him quickly again.

God, she knew what she was doing, to such a perfect degree. The rhythm, pacing, getting into a nice and pleasant tempo, familiar, inviting, loving. She pressed her back to him, squishing her bare breasts to his back until he could feel her hard nipples pressing through his suit, the softness overflowing his shoulders. All the while, she kept one of her hands secure on his throat, pinning him to her, even as she bent forward slightly so he did as well. He couldn’t interfere, with her order to keep his hands against the wall. And he couldn’t look down with her grip on his neck. Helpless, he closed his eyes, and let the woman work her magic.

Cum started to pour through his length, hot, tingling, each squeeze of his muscles earning more of the sweet, tantalizing pleasure of thick heat flowing through his cock. Another flex, met with Antoinette’s grip rising closer to his glans, sent an almost painful wave of pleasure down his length, and a spurt of the liquid to squirt onto the wall in front of him.

“Ever so sweet,” she said, and her grip on his shaft rose again. With her palm and fingers circling him just under the glans, she shifted her grip up and down, so the sheathe of his skin, along with her fingers, and his cum, massaged and coated the base edge of the bulbous tip of his cock, the most sensitive place on his body. And he groaned. No use trying to hide how amazing it felt, how perfect it was, how her fingers caught where his cum dripped from his glans, spread the warmth around, and used it to lubricate his cock as she milked him. Again, her hair tickled along the tip of his shaft as she aimed it more upright, and growled down over him as she stroked him again, and again, and again. And once no more cum leaked from him, she milked the waves of pleasure instead, strokes shortening and becoming gentle.

“Say that you love me, my little Ventrue.”

“I love you.” So manipulative. Demanding such words after working an orgasm out of him. Hell, she was still stroking his cum-coated cock, and making him squirm as the final tingles of post-orgasm bliss started to fade. There was some definite Pavlovian manipulation going on here.

But that was fine, because he did love her.

“And I trust you to never betray our love. I do. So, do not worry if your eyes wander. The women at the ball will be dressed to invite your eyes, and it would be rude to ignore that request.” She let go of his neck at last, and lowered the hand to run a fingertip around and around the tip of his cock, spreading the soon-to-fade cum. “I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the intrigued, aroused gazes of people, when I wear clothing such as this. Mostly, it is your gazes I crave, my dearest love, but forgive a woman for delighting in her vanity, and enjoying the eyes of strangers.”

“F-Forgiven, definitely forgiven. And can you wear that dress? More often? When we’re alone.”

She kissed his ear, and purred once again. “Of course.”

He sighed his bliss, and looked down, now that she had both hands on his length. He was still hard, and she was still massaging his length. And she wasn’t stopping.

Having sex so often, sometimes with the rather demanding task of satisfying three women, was having an effect on him. A man’s recovery period from orgasm was only a biological function after all, and Kindred could bypass any biological function with practice. Or in this case, with an conscious and unconscious need. His body, his mind, his beast, they wanted more. More.

She started to stroke him faster again, and nudged her cheek against his as she caught on. No words needed, she knew he wanted more. She brought her other hand up again to find his neck again, but this time she kept her fingers around his throat more gentle so he could look down, and watch how her beautiful, cum-coated hand worked him.

“I would be lying,” she said, “if I did not find our regular bouts to have affected me, my love. Forever I have enjoyed touch upon my breasts, but, your persistent kissing, suckling, massaging, and pampering has lead to an increase in my own desire, as it has apparently done in you as well.”

“I ... I um...” Too good, the sound of her husky voice in his ear as she massaged his wet cock. Cum as lubricant, joined by more precum, made everything slide perfectly along the skin, his ripe glans, so the pleasuring heat of impending climax started once again.

“To simply lay there, and let my love suckle and massage my breasts for as long as you enjoy? The thought of it leaves me dripping wet.” She whispered the words directly into his ear, and her stroking hand grew faster. “And to sit upon you, hold your length sheathed inside me, and cradle your head to my breasts, is bliss. Utter bliss. Or, to touch myself, my breasts, to caress them as you set your lips upon my folds, and your fingers within my recesses?” She pressed herself to him harder, until her nipples were stabbing him like diamonds. “I can feel myself dripping down my thighs, at this very moment, at the thought. I—”

He came again.

They took a limousine, a proper, fancy, large limousine, with more than enough room for half a dozen people to sit around comfortably. Course it was just him and the Prince, and she snuggled up against the side of him as he sat down.

God, he still couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The dress exposed so much skin, skin he’d been fondling only moments before, skin he’d covered in his cum dozens of times. Maybe if they had time, she’d—no no, she just gave you a handjob, you idiot, two at that. And you’re on the way to an important and expensive party, a ball, had by your covenant. Yes, there will be women there, scantily clad. Yes, there will be thralls and ghouls there, for showing off, for drinking, and even sharing. Yes, vampires were going to get horny, and have to contain that arousal until they went home. It was only natural sex was going to be on his mind, especially with Antoinette sitting beside him with her breasts almost completely exposed, and every inch of her stomach all the way down to her mons pubis also exposed.

Memories of so many nights, sitting on her waist and coating that valley of skin in his cum, refused to stay put. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop picturing the beautiful woman next to him, with her dress pulled apart again so he could caress and suckle on her nipples while she stroked his head, cradled him, while she jerked him off again.

“My love, I can see that twinkle in your eye.”

“W-Wha? Oh, sorry, just ... can’t help but stare at you wearing that.” He gestured to the plunging cleavage that reached far far below her navel, and how it was just a loose, single string that kept the cleavage from parting to fully expose her nipples.

“After what I did but twenty minutes ago? My, your sex drive is boundless.”

“I’m sorry! Just ... embraced pretty young, you know?”

“That you were. And, to my delight, a young man such as you will forever, eternally lust with such vigor.” She reached out, slipped her arm behind his back, and settled it on his shoulders while her other hand reached down, took one of his hands, and guided it to her lips. Kiss, kiss, more kisses on his knuckles as she grinned at him with that mischievous devil gaze. “If my hands were not enough, when this ball is fini, I will take care of you once again. Though, this time, you will be satisfying my needs first.” Another kiss, this time with a hint of her fangs putting pressure on his skin. “Multiple times.” And she was using her order voice. Not a request then.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Merci beaucoup. I expect to have your tongue upon my breasts and my folds for the remainder of the night.” A tight hug, and she leaned down to plant a kiss upon his head. “But, perhaps tomorrow, we could embark on a social activity less sexual?”

Well, they did have sex. A lot. All the time. He always wanted it and she always wanted him to want it. But he did want to do more, just never knew what she’d want to do.

“Any ideas?”

“Ben oui. I believe there are operas you may enjoy, and you wished to hear more of my cello playing, did you not?” She gave him another kiss on his buzzed hair, and released his hand only to set her hand on his chest and adjust his suit. Shoulder was probably sitting off center or something. “Or perhaps, we could simply sit down together, and watch television?”

“I have to admit I have a hard time imagining you enjoying television.”

“I have seen the rise of radio, the phone, television in its original form, blurry images of black and white, and have seen the growing era of virtual reality. But, you are correct, it is rare for me to enjoy a television show. Trite garbage.”

He laughed. Yeah, it was garbage. “But not all of it’s horrible garbage. Some of it is good garbage. I’d say we could both binge watch a show sometime, but that doesn’t really work unless you’re willing to sit down for three or fours hours a night for a few nights straight.”

“Alas, that would not work for either of us. Perhaps a movie?”

Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the smile from sneaking onto his lips. Hearing her, her French accent, and her godliness say ‘movie’ was just too cute.

“Ashley and Julee don’t try and force you to watch movies? Romcoms or such?”

“Oh, the two little minxes try, but they fail. For you though, little Ventrue? I am willing to experiment.” Another kiss for his head, and her roaming hand found his neck, where she adjusted the collar of his shirt. “A trade of tastes. You test your palette upon my flavors of choice, and I yours. Though, as the woman in this relationship, I fully expect to have an unfair bias in this exchange, in my favor.” As if to prove her point, she pressed the side of her body into his, her nearest breast pushing to his shoulder as she ran her hand down his body and down to his leg, near his crotch. “Non?”