I Don't Remember You Looking Any Better, But Then Again I Don't Remember You

A low moan pressed through his cold lips,- his ivory complexion illuminating the lowly-lit room. Her soft, warm kisses tensed every inch of his frigid chizzled body. He carefully slid his way to the carpeted floor, hunching his shoulders low enough to scoop her effortlessly from the couch. He held her tightly to his bare chest giving her a devilish one-sided smirk.
"You asked for danger.." His slurred phrase was almost incomprehensible- English accent thickly covering each word.

He followed the lean hallway, using his keen sense of smell to discover where her bedroom resided. He could smell the excessive aroma of her perfume and natural sweet odor, spew from the room nestled in the far corner.

He brushed though the ajar door, gently laying her against the soft feather bed. He followed her body, repositioning himself so he towered over her. A sense of playfulness took over as he began to trace his lips atop her distinct waistline, carrying his toying mouth back to her red stained lips. He self consciously wiped away any remaining blood that may have dripped from his previous feeding.

"If you think that felt good.. you should experience the taste of vampiric blood." he moaned while tracing his finger along her jaw.

Her whole body was tensed, she felt pleasure with his kiss, with his touch, with every word that came from his perfect mouth. She longed for him to be as ravenous as she was, and no twinge of fear followed with this longing. Her satin lips parted and she ached to feel his lips on every inch of her skin.

She hung limp in his masculine arms, resting one hand on his chest. She brought one arm around his back, and kept whispering, "Closer," urging him to press himself against her.

Her gray eyes widened for the hundredth time that night. "You would let me do that?" She asked, her toes curling in the blissful memory of him biting her. "Let's try it." Her eyes showed her daring side, and she sat up.

Ash pulled himself closer, his cold skin draping delicately atop her tensed body. His face was only inches from hers as he gently brushed his lips across her forehead.

He sensed her longing gaze, daring him to grant her a kiss upon her full red lips. He over-looked her wishes and spread sweet kisses along her pronounced jawline, making his way to any revealed bare skin.

His desirable admiration turned into a provocative smirk which lead him to bringing his wrist to his parted mouth. His brilliant eyes of rich gold and brown gleamed brightly down upon her succumbed figure.

"Of course.." his voice was flawless; only a mere hush of inviting words. His wrist slipped into his ajar lips, prolonged fangs sinking deep within his skin. Without a flinch, or soft moan of inflicted pain, he gracefully brought his bloodied hand to her angelic face.

She shivered, though she was not sure it was an effect of his skin or her happiness. Her eyes were closed and she was only making soft movements with her lips over his icy skin, her delicate fingers running up and down his back, over and over.

As he brought his bleeding wrist to her mouth, she opened her eyes, unsure of what exactly to do, or how to go about this gracefully. She looked up at him and allowed her mouth to close around the wound, taking a taste of the red liquid pouring sluggishly over the edges of the gash.

Her eyes closed nearly instantly, and she brought herself closer to him, leaning on him. Her fingers entwined with the hand that her mouth was latched on to. She drank from him slowly, because she knew it might hurt him if she took too much. She wondered how this felt for him.

As she felt she was finished, she released her hold on his wrist, though keeping her fingers laced with his. She fell back on the bed, as if she had fainted, then, finally, opened her eyes and smiled widely at him.

She propped herself up on one elbow and smiled mischievously at him. "That was nice, I suppose," she said, her words flowing from her mouth, smooth as butter. Her brows were arched in happiness, her face shone. She was feeling good, and she was really hoping that he would succumb to her heightened mood.

He gently resituated his punctured hand back against the brim of the bed, supporting most of his penetrating weight. He ignored her words, continuing to tease her skin with his cold lips; soft breaths of air tickling her dewy skin. His blood lust was rapidly raising, he longed to consume her lavish body as a whole. His mind toyed with the scenarios of their silent bodies entwining in the lowly lit room.
Allowing only the moon to cascade its illuminating beams of soft lucent light into the extravagant bedroom.

The anticipation of their contrasting bodies of both, bodily warmth and frigid coldness becoming not two, but one.

Though he thought his mind was the only thing brave enough for imprudency, he caught himself inching his hand down to the bottom seam of her short dress, slowly pulling the thin material from her libidinous body. He paused every now and then, making sure she was still allowing his abrupt invitations to intimacy.

Once again, her body fluttered with the coldness of his lips on her skin, though she adored the feel of his skin on hers. As she felt his cold fingers lift the lavish material of her dress, a small smile played at her porcelain lips. The only thought that ran through her head was "finally".

Following his lead, her fingers crept down his stomach, and she questioningly gazed up at him, her fingers trailing his waistline, her eyes taking in his majestic face. She moved her upper body upwards, finally reaching his lips.

She kissed him forcefully, with power, with desire and longing. Inadvertently, one arm reached up to his head, her hand behind it. She was playing with and pulling his hair, even though she hadn't really meant to, and she didn't want to stop kissing him.

She closed her eyes now, never breaking the kiss, showing him she was fearless and determined, hoping he was everything she thought he was.

His hand followed her promiscuous intentions, trailing his fingers along his lean stomach. He playfully placed her hand atop his buttoned jeans, doing the honors of unsnapping the tedious clasp from it's hold. His baggy pants carelessly fell to the ground, a grin merging to his coy face. His masculine body glistened within the moonlit room, bedroom eyes luring her in.

Ash's body tensed as her warmth met with his gelid skin. He entwined his fingers within her hair, pulling his body inwards; his weight finally embracing her.
Serafina's caressing touch shot shudders throughout his body; the intoxicating aroma of her blood stained lips made his desire rise into yearning hunger. His fervor controlled his body- mind spinning in infinite loops of lust and thirst.

His grasp became tighter as the final penetration took place, soft moans brushing from his ajar mouth. He held her body closely, his lips fusing with hers. Infinite kisses were dappled across her neck as he gently pressed his body assiduously against hers.

Sera's eyes followed his hands, and her face remained calm and placid as he discarded his trousers. She did not smile or grin, she was in a place of bliss. Her eyes wandered up to his face, where he was looking at her, his beautiful golden eyes taking her in.

She was perplexed and entranced by him, and all at once, they were one. Her eyes shut softly so she could avoid them rolling back, and her toes curled in pleasure. She kept her moans to a minimum, one hand on his smooth back, fingers digging into his stone skin.

She loved being so close to him, and then, as she felt the excitement coming to an end, her fingers dug in so hard any normal person might have bled, and she couldn't help herself from groaning loudly. She felt him shiver for the first time beneath her, and couldn't help but allow a coy smile to display itself upon her cherry-red lips.

She came down from the cloud of happiness she had been on, releasing her nails from their place embedded in his skin, moving them up to his neck and latching on, as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling.

She kissed him, over and over, as if thanking him, wondering whether he was yearning for her blood again. Her fingers traced every inch of him, and finally, she exhaled, her eyes opening once more.

The moments of passion were splendid; he had never felt such sudden infatuation for a mortal woman aside from his Lyla. His mind suddenly grasped the realization that he was being disloyal. He froze momentarily, thoughts of her horrified face crept into his mind; haunting his unfaithful actions.

But, Lyla didn't love him this way. He began to argue with himself, trying to push the distraught emotions from his face. The question that attacked his weakened mind, was probably the most painful reality check yet.

It's because of your blood. This isn't love, it's hypnotism

His brows pulled together, quickly shaking away the harsh meekness of his mind.

[i]It's hunger, Ash. Can't you see it?"[/i

"S-stop!" he moaned under his breath, he pulled away from Serafina's body, carefully placing himself in the empty space next to her.

"This isn't.. love." he mumbled under his breath, turning his gaze towards Serafina's confused face. "I'm sorry."

Sera watched as his face went from delighted to horrified and disappointed. She was intrigued and distraught by the different looks flashing across his face, each one getting worse and worse. She sat up and scooted back, her back resting on the headboard of the bed.

When he asked her to stop her hands slowly fell to her sides, and her eyes fell, staring at whatever she could find that was on the floor.

Her thin eyebrows knitted together and she looked at him, concerned. "Did I...did I do something?"

It was the first time she had ever asked that in her life. "I mean, I know it's not love, but what is it? God..." she pushed her strawberry curls back and looked at him, upset.

Ash rolled onto his side, looking at her sharply. His eyes poured genuine emotion towards the whole situation.

His outstretched hand gently pushed locks of strawberry blonde hair behind her ears. A loud sigh parted from his lips as he began to resituate himself, resting his back against the frame of the bed.

"You didn't do anything wrong.. It's me." his phrase was so cliche' he frowned at his own choice of words. His fixated stare became more intense as he began to take the conversation into a new level. He carefully rested his chin in the palm of his hands, tilting his head to the side.

"There is another woman in my life, whom I care about very much so." he began, the realization of his sins were coming to surface yet again, "And.. I feel this isn't an appropriate way for a man to express his love towards another woman."

She tried hard not to laugh as he pulled the 'its-not-you-its-me' card, feeling heart's pace slow a bit as he brushed back her hair. As he spoke, she slowly slid under the covers, feeling exposed and cold all of a sudden.

She propped her head up on her arm, facing him. "So you're telling me you cheated on your...girlfriend?" She sincerely hoped it was his girlfriend, knowing marriages were hard to break up and very nasty to get involved with.

She didn't understand what he was saying about expressing his love...did that mean he loved her? She gazed up at him, fixated by his eyes and their captivating stare. Her face flushed and her heart sped up as she got nervous-she had never felt like such a...slut.

"But why did you come with me? You knew what you were getting into," her voice was soft and lulling, like she were singing him a song to make him fall asleep, or telling him a bedtime story. "But now...now you've got a decision."

She didn't urge him to choose her, nor did she throw a fit over the fact that there was even a decision in the first place, but instead she removed her other arm from within the sheets, reaching up to his face and cupping it, the two temperatures colliding. She simply presented him with the fact, and she promised herself she wouldn't fuss if he forgot all about her, though it was not what she wanted.

His eyes fell, feeling guilt overwhelm him. It was bad enough he decided to come clean after the lovemaking, but his poor choice of words and deficient explanations really made the situation more arduous.

"You could call her my girlfriend, I suppose.. She is just someone who has accepted me for who I am now." he began, he slowly slid from the bed, gathering the particles of clothing that trailed from the door to the bedside. He slipped his jeans on, wistfully buttoning his while undershirt halfway. "This... it's not right, and most of all, it's not safe." he murmured under hushed breaths.


Serafina didn't understand the horrifying potential damage he could inflict upon her without even trying, especially in such intimate actions.

He shrugged his shoulder, silently making his way to the side of the bed. His outstretched hand caressed her soft face, his eyes pouring dismay.
"I don't know why I came here.." he whispered, "There is something about you."

She watched as he tried to cover his tracks, as he tried to make himself feel less guilty, though she knew what had been done could not be taken away. "Right? How can you say that that wasn't right? Did it not feel right? Or maybe I was imagining this, maybe it was all a dream." She was upset now, and she felt her cheeks flush and her heart beat faster.

She loved and hated that he wanted her to be safe, her head couldn't decide which one it was. His ice-cold hand was on her face, and she brought her hand against it without thinking. "Are you blaming this on me?" She asked, her eyes narrowing, taking a deep breath.

She pushed herself away from him, striding through an open door, her closet, to grab a white oversized dress shirt and throw it over her shoulders, buttoning it up as she came back into the room.

"You're going to just leave me here, then?" she questioned, "After everything that just happened?" She felt a rush of emotion and collapsed into one of the nearby white plush chairs. "I am not afraid of you, Ash. I know you have control over yourself," she said, throwing him a daring glare.

He couldn't have a human girlfriend who 'understood' him and not control himself. It was obvious to her, and he was beating around the bush, it was as if he wasn't telling her everything. She shook her heat in defeat.

His warm eyes fixated on her baffled face, he could sense the tension rising within the room. He argued to himself, questioning how to handle this unacceptable situation. A low sigh curled from his lips and he followed her to her new location. His hands traced her lean face, finally bringing his gentle touch to her neck.

"This.. this is my fault." he murmured while tracing his fingers along the two small puncture wounds aside her long neck, "This isn't normal." he mumbled as if trying to convince himself. He knelt to the floor, hands morosely falling atop her clenched fists.

"I've never put Lyla is this sort of danger." he answered before she could use the mortal girlfriend card against him again, "I don't know what I was thinking. All I know, is I've never place her in this situation because I knew it would end badly." his eyes fell to the ground,- he cautiously fixed his gaze back to her tear filled eyes, trying to avoid the vexation he could feel coming from her harsh stare.

"There are laws. Laws that prohibit any relationships with mortal beings, especially with those you enlighten, and not kill afterwords. You know our secret.. And I so freely shared it with you. I don't understand what I was thinking. Lyla is put in danger every day for knowing. They are always watching." he spoke softly, his words nearly uncompromisable.

"Do you understand?"

She tensed at his touch, not allowing herself to feel happy in the slightest bit. She tried very hard not to close her eyes as he touched her face, and she glared at him out of her gray eyes, a steely look. She sighed as he spoke. This wasn't all his fault. "No, no, it's not...all your fault." She said, even though she really wanted to blame it all on him.

"Or is it because you don't think she could handle seeing you be yourself?" She said, not meaning it harshly; her voice was surprisingly soft, and she raised her own eyebrows as she spoke. "It doesn't have to end badly," she murmured, annoyed he kept looking away.

"Why can't you look at me?!" She said, standing up and side-stepping him, her small frame nearly shaking with anger. "I understand, I understand!" She said, angrily gathering her hair from her flushed face into a bun on the top of her head. "Why do you care if they are watching? Kill me!" She finished, turning on her heel.

She couldn't think of anything else to say to him, and she walked right out of the room, downstairs, to the kitchen, where she poured herself a cold glass of water. She was slowly calming down, and, wondering when or if he would come down as well, she pulled herself up onto the countertop.

She perched there, sipping her drink, crossing one ankle over the other. She closed her eyes and brought the cold surface of the glass to her forehead, willing her skin to return to its natural color, and willing her blood to stop rushing as quickly as it did when she got angry.

He quickly stood to his feet, gracefully gliding down the stairs to follow the angered woman. He could feel annoyance begin to curdle within himself, his heartless rage coming to surface. Though we was a very gentle, and placid kind of man.. People who didn't understand circumstances quickly, irked him beyond limits.

He watched her from the end of the staircase, his fists clenched tightly onto the railing.
"You want me to kill you?" he snapped, his ivory face tensing with anger, "This is why I don't affiliate myself with such foolish beings, they don't understand!" he spat while throwing his arms roughly to his sides. He used his inhuman speed to make his way across the room, only inches from her disquieted face.

"I could kill you right now, and the Camarilla would praise my.. every.. move" he croaked out harshly; a malicious sneer following. His hand slipped over her neck, embracing it tightly. His face suddenly lightened, as if his switch of anger suddenly snapped off.

"But..." he began while gently releasing his grasp, "I'm not a monster." he finished while turning his back towards Serafina.

"You have a choice." he whispered while running his hands along the smooth counter top, "You either.. keep my dirty little secret. Or.."
He left the sentence unfinished, not wanting to frighten the woman any more than he already done with his previous antics.

She was happy that he was finally angry-and a look of pure joy flashed across her face before she settled for looking frightened. She felt a twinge of fear cross as he roughly grabbed her neck, but she knew he wouldn't actually hurt her.

As he turned away, she felt a sudden urge to kiss him, and as he turned, she grabbed his arm, turning him towards her. She reached her arms up around his neck and kissed him, something completely spur-of-the-moment. It was quick, and soon she was walking away, pacing, deciding what she wanted to do.

"Can we just...can we just wait a little while? I don't even know what...what you do, where you live..." she trailed off, tracing little pictures with her finger on the countertop and then looking up at him.

She pulled out one of the barstools and sat down, facing him, propping her face up on one hand, gazing at him. She could be immortal, fast, strong...she could be this age forever. She didn't particularly want to consider the bad points of the...change.

Ash could feel a smile curl onto his previously frowning mouth. His eyes lightened as her playfully eager words slipped from her red lips. A delightfully pleased aura seemed to have cascaded down upon him as he slowly turned himself back towards the kitchen.

He hunched over the rim of the counter, resting his chin in the palms of his hands. His devilish smirk never parting from his lips.
"I live downtown, in an apartment with my roommate. I was an artist, an architect, and a professor." his answers were choppy, a coltish gist flowing from his every word.

He titled his head to the side, still holding his face within his hands.
"How about you?" he teased, "What's your story?" he questioned as if he hadn't already assumed it.


ooc;
Sorry it's so short! I have to go for a bit. Be back soon!

She was happy to see him smiling again, and a breath she had not known she was holding escaped from within her. "And what are you now?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She wanted to ask so many more questions.

"So you live kind of close to here?" She asked, hopeful. She lived a little farther north, in uptown, the nicest part of London. She was finally settled down from her manic state.

"My...story?" She asked, screwing up her face in thought. Her life was boring, usually. "I'm a socialite. People pay me to go to parties and openings and I host dinners and have to pretend to date these boys who are actually gay. I grew up here, I went to Oxford, I have a sister and a brother who hate me. My mother and father live on Barbados now, but I'll sometimes talk to them." She paused, looking at him.

"But I'm much more interested in you. How did you come to be? Where did you grow up? I love paintings!" She added, smiling and straightening up, eager to know the answers.

His smile grew wider as her enthusiasm amplified. It pleased him to know someone actually took interest in who he was. This time, it wasn't a web of lies of who he use to be as a mortal man. He was able to unfold the countless stories he had gathered over the many decades of his immortal life, without the burdensome feeling of getting caught in his secret of everlasting life.

He could praise about his admiration of art- share the fact he owned most of the art galleries in England, and most importantly, the tale of his various architectural designs which were scattered throughout all of Europe.

As he told her his life through his eyes, sharing every detail he was capable of remembering, he even mentioned his bleak past of sorrow and pain.

When the conversation began to slow down, he timidly looked down at the counter. His eyebrows raised into high arcs. "Are you referring to.. how I.. became what I am now?"



ooc; Man! I have to go.. I want to leave this part for my next reply because I don't want to rush through it. c:

OOC: Alright!

She listened intently to every word he said, hanging on his soothing voice. He was so much more interesting than her, and she couldn't help but hate the Camarilla along with him, to feel extreme sorrow for him losing love in such a harsh way. She had never loved before, and she suddenly wished she had allowed herself to get involved with someone.

As he looked down and slowed his talking, she stood, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and wishing she could change his past for him. He was obviously ashamed, or maybe upset at what had happened to make him a vampire. " Yes, but it's alright if you don't want to tell me."

She moved to the couch, motioning for him to sit next to her. She propped herself up on a pillow and moved her feet so they were on the couch and she could lean on him when he sat down.

Ash readily followed her gesture, taking a seat where her hand gently patted against the couch's material. The eagerness never left his eyes as he resituated himself, gesturing her to lean against his body. A certain glow seemed to have radiated from his ivory skin, perhaps this was his humanity shining through. He softly draped his hand atop hers, a toothless smile curling onto his pale lips. He shook his head, wild strands of auburn hair falling to his turned down gaze.

"It's fine." he murmured while tightening his grasp onto her delicate folded hands.

"It was about... 105 years ago." he began while playfully darting Serafina a coy expression, "Yes.. I'm 127." he chuckled following a smug grin.

"I honestly can't remember much about my mortal life.. Or how I became what I am." he propped his elbow against the couch's arm, resting his chin in his palm.

"But.. it goes something like this."


England, 1904:

A handsome young man strolled along the busily night streets of London. His hands were securely wrapped around the base of the stems of a dozen red roses. His pace quickened as the thoughts of his fiance' ran through his mind.
Her smiling face welcoming him home, and before she could speak, he'd surprise her with the hidden flowers held against his back. A beaming grin crossed his face, so noticeable, strangers along the crosswalk felt the need to smile back.

He simply gave them all a friendly nod and continued to his destination. The brisk air burned against his warm face, blotches of red beginning to stamp across his clear completion. He hated the cold. The feeling of the night's cold breath penetrating its harsh needles against vulnerable human flesh. No matter, he was nearly home. He could feel his quick pace turn into a slow jog.

The tips of the roses teased the underneath of his chin as they softly bounced up and down from his uneven strut. He couldn't help but smile. Everything about life made him feel like he was floating on a cloud of ecstasy. He couldn't ask for a more perfect life. He was successful in every way, came from a wealthy family of doctors and professors, and most of all, he met the love of his life. His first love in fact.

Her name was Delilah Goodman. Their families had been friends for countless years, which lead into their evergreen relationship since childhood. Men and women envied their fairytale romance, longing to be as in-love and successful as these two. It was the type of relationship that hardly came to reality, the kind most can only imagine and hope for.

It was only weeks away from their long awaited wedding, the day they could finally make the oath of eternal love- until death to they part.

As the man finally made his way home, he quickly grasped for the handle. To his surprise, the door was already ajar. Slightly confused, he gently pushed the door open. The lights were off, the sound of dinner curdling within the kitchen's walls broke the silence.

"Hello?" he gently called out while slipping his way into the house. His fingers fumbled in the darkness, searching for any source of light. He finally gave up, and began to make his way to the kitchen. Faint flickering candle lights gleamed in the lowly lit room.

His smile returned across his face, quickly revealing the roses in-front of his body. He waited for Delilahs excited cries to reach his ears before he'd lower the bundle of flowers from his face. He waited momentarily, realizing she must've been in another room.

As he peered deeper into the room, he could feel the flowers slip from his fingers. They crashed against the tiled floor, sorrowful petals scattering across the ground. His eyes widened, tears of fear and distraught pouring down his cheeks.

There Delilah lay, her bloodied body lay across the floor, her blue eyes glazed with a foggy film. Ash collapsed to the hard tile, desperate screams of agony filled the quiet streets of Liverpool.

Ash grew silent, his eyes falling solemnly to the ground. He slowly lifted his gaze, meeting his tear filled eyes with Serafina.
"That's all I really remember.. After that, I woke up in the hospital. I remember hearing the voices of the nurses saying I didn't have much longer to live. I had lost too much blood... Then, after I died.. I woke up in an afterlife." he shrugged his shoulder before quickly adding, "They assumed the thieves were still in the house... Or something else in that case."

She felt so happy, leaning against him, listening to his buttery voice. It soothed her to her core, and she was perfectly peaceful, a soft smile forming on her lips as he took her hand. She listened intently, feeling as if she were almost watching the story, another, brighter smile forming as he described his happiness.

She was confused as to how he was turned, but she supposed he was probably just as confused as she was. Her brows were knitted in concern and sympathy, and she reached up to touch his pale face with her hand. "I'm sorry," she said, knowing nothing she said could really help him. She had never been in that situation before.

"And so now you live with your roommate downtown. And what do you do during the day? Is it like...dracula?" Her eyes widened. "Do you have a coffin?" She giggled at the thought.

"I mean, do you kill people...a lot?" Her voice grew quiet as she thought of the side of him she had seen earlier.

Ash was also confused on the full story of his vampiric transformation. He toyed with the idea of the burglars being vampires, and leaving him for dead. The paramedics must have revived the little life left in his tortured body, but couldn't keep him alive for long. After his final death, the vampire blood still ran through his veins, which caused the vampirism,.. or there was an unexpected third person in the scenario.

He chuckled at her stereotypical vampire questionnaire. He couldn't help but muse over the idea of actually sleeping in a coffin. Honestly, the thought creeped him out.

"I sleep in a bed." he laughed while shaking his head playfully from side to side, "And, we usually just relax in the daytime.. Waiting for the sun to set. Or we sleep." he chuckled loudly, a friendly smile spreading across his face.

His smile slowly fell as he heard her last question. Thoughts of the numerous people he had slaughtered in the past before sustaining the desire for blood.

"I haven't killed many people." he lied through his teeth, but his placid expression made it appear genuine. She didn't need to know his past sins.