400yearsofsurvival | For faiththatfuelsu

For faiththatfuelsu

For nearly his entire existence, slayers had been nearly a myth. When there was just one in the whole world, a century could pass without hearing so much as a whisper about one. It made them incredibly easy to avoid. It was to his benefit in more ways than mere survival. Even the watchers and all their dusty books had all but forgotten about Jerry's particular breed of vampire, thanks to a purge that occurred long before Jerry was even turned. Nests still got wiped out, but mostly by hunters who lacked the experience to tell the difference between turning to ash and turning to embers upon death.

Jerry had tried to set up shop in Las Vegas for a while, but it wasn't long before he caught wind of some hot shot slayer in the next state over. So he relocated to the opposite coast, eventually settling in the bustling chaos of New York. A city where he could practically snatch people in (figurative) broad daylight and no one would even look twice.

The downside, however, was finding a place to build his little family again. Somewhere he could store a few snacks. After careful searching, he found it. A mid-tier apartment building handled by an inattentive superintendent. The residents were so pleased to see someone who looked like he knew what he was doing they didn't even question where the other guy went. He then turned his attention to converting the basement of the building into something more comfortable.

Long after the work was done, and after about half of the apartments residents had moved into the basement, he got something of a shock. He returned home one night to find half of his family destroyed, and a young girl no older than sixteen covered in blood and facing off against those that remained. She'd been bitten so much she'd already started to turn. So unfortunate she'd tried to escape after sunrise.

That would be the first of many encounters. They were slow at first, once every few months. Slowly building until every few weeks he'd encounter a young woman who actively posed a challenge to him. Or threatened him with a stake. Or interrupted a hunt. Or crashed his home. It didn't take much to figure out what was going on. A little isolation, a little torment, a little mind control can go a long way.

Eventually he had a name: Faith. And with a little more time he had the details to find her. To watch her movements. To see that she'd make an easy mark. One night he waited until she went to an obnoxiously loud club. He waited still longer, until she'd had several drinks while appearing to be downing several drinks himself. Then he made his first move: He bought her a drink.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Faith had been in New York for a few years after everything with London had calmed down. She had figured that being on the opposite coast to Buffy was a good idea for both of them. Faith had a group of junior slayers to mentor and train, new batch every few months or so. Losses happened. More often they went to a permanent posting. It was a good life she'd made for herself. She answered to the Watcher's Council still but they mostly stayed out of her way unless the big stuff came up. When the world was ending, that's when she'd get the call to come in and play muscle to Buffy's leader.

It was after one of the avoided apocalyptic events that she decided to take the night off and let loose a little. After a while of not letting her hair down, she decided it would be an all or nothing kind of night. She'd gotten more drinks bought for her than she'd had to pay for but it wasn't until she'd gone back to the bar that she finally had some hope. Dark hair, dark eyes and something that said danger. Internal warning signal that wasn't quite her usual Slayer instincts flaring to life but that she couldn't ignore. She was curious about him. When he bought her a drink she took it with a wink and a raising of her glass in cheers. Then Faith threw the shot back. She wasn't feeling buzzed yet but the night was still early. She'd been dancing for the last two hours and there was still time before the club closed. She wondered if tall, dark, and handsome would be going with her to the dancefloor or if he'd be staying at the bar.

Faith looked in his direction and motioned with a finger for him to join her. Only one way to find out.

He should have looked completely out of place. A bit older than the average club goer, dressed more like he was heading in to a construction job than a night on the town. And yet he looked completely comfortable as if he were in his own home. It usually wasn't his preferred hunting ground, split between overwhelming his senses to the point of being useless and being so easy it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Yet tonight, his prey might be worth it. A proper slayer. One who was properly trained and seasoned, unlike the new recruits he'd kept finding.

He made no secret of watching her as she took his drink, only slightly turning down his look of hunger. A look that tugged into an eager smile when she beckoned him. He wasn't much of a dancer, preferring to get his newest victim out of public view before anyone saw them together. But this wasn't a typical hunt. He moved up beside her without a word, his hand sliding over her lower back, merely tilting his head toward the other writhing people. Let her think she was in charge and leading the way.

He didn't look like your typical club kid, not that she counted as a kid herself anymore. Gone were the days of dancing all night and sleeping all day. She had younger Slayers to train and look out for. This was her night to play.

Mr. Nameless slides his hand over her lower back and she moves out to the dancefloor with him following behind. He doesn't come across as someone who has trouble taking the lead and there's something there, something about him that tingles at her senses. The closer he gets the more she feels it but it isn't the normal feeling she gets around vampires. She wonders if she's feeling a buzz even though she hasn't had that much to drink. Maybe she's turning into a lightweight with age.

Still, she gets him on the floor and she hooks an arm around his neck. There's a track with heavy bass pounding out around them but it could almost be called slow for a club song. Faith sways her hips in time to the beat and doesn't try talking to him. This is the real test. If he can move then they don't need to say a word. For all that he doesn't look like it's his usual scene, he doesn't have any issue keeping up, matching her sway for sway. When the song ends she only flashes him a grin then heads back to the bar. Whether he follows, and she hopes he will, is up to him.

And move he does. Not with the aggressiveness of a man who expects more, or the desperation of a man begging for more, but as someone who knows exactly what he's doing. Guiding with a strong hand rather than forcing the lead. And those strong hands took every opportunity to wander over her. Something that may have seemed intimate, when in truth he wanted to know where she kept her weapons.

When they moved back toward the bar and she still hadn't grown suspicious, he started to plan something a bit more elaborate. The original plan was to get her back to his place for the usual treatment. Turning a slayer would be the accomplishment of a very long life. But what a thrill it would be to stretch out the hunt. To savor it.

First step, get her as drunk as possible. Once they reach the bar, he drops a card in front of the bartender. "Open a tab. The lady gets whatever she wants. And I'll have a..." He canted his head as he thought for a moment. "An apple martini." A joke, just for himself.

She was used to wandering hands and she wasn't sloppy. Her stake was tucked into the boot she wore, accessible enough for her because she knew what she was doing. Faith enjoyed her flirtations, enjoyed her teases, but it wasn't until they were back at the bar that she started to wonder about him. An apple martini? Really?

"I appreciate the gesture but I'm starting to second guess the guy I just let feel me up on the dancefloor. What's with the drink?"

Faith orders a jack and coke for herself. She made it a rule to never get too drunk that she lost control of her faculties. It was her number one rule for herself. That was a death sentence for a Slayer.

"I'm Faith."

An eyebrow lifted slightly at her own choice of drink. It's certainly not what he'd expected, but that's what made these more intimate hunts so much more thrilling. Humans were predictable when scared. But when they're completely unaware of the dangers mere inches away, they made...interesting choices.

Leaving her question unanswered, he just leaned his elbow on the bar.

"Jerry," was all he said.

Faith took the opportunity to look him up and down, take in everything that she could see standing in front of her. There was something off and she couldn't place it but it niggled at the back of her mind. It made her ask the banal questions that she usually hated.

"So Jerry, what brings you out tonight?" Clearly what everyone there was for. Fun. A fuck. Alcohol. But what would he say? What answer would she get? Would it be a line or something more straightforward?

She sipped at her drink, mindful of how many she'd already had. She'd get water after this to keep the right balance. That's what life was for her these days, all about balance.

Picking up his own drink, he brought it up to his lips as he watched her looking him over. He returned the gesture, his gaze wandering over her most interesting parts as if he hadn't been watching her since before he'd even set foot in the club.

Only after she spoke did he take a drink, downing half of the vibrant green concoction in one gulp. He ran his tongue over his lips, glass still hovering inches from them.

"Had a few things in mind." All of which ended with her in a locked room in his basement. "But I'm open to being..." his gaze swept over her again, a vague smile spreading over his lips. "...flexible."

She was used to men looking at her like she was something tasty so his looks didn't set off any alarm bells. So far he hadn't seemed like anything out of the ordinary. He did seem to know what he wanted though. There had yet to be any hesitation that wasn't deliberate in their interactions so far.

Faith nursed her jack and coke like she was a lightweight, watching as he ran his tongue over his lips. She wondered what he would taste like under the taste of liquor.

"Flexible, huh?" He had no idea just how flexible she could be though she was more than willing to show him if he kept playing his cards right. It was just a matter of how things progressed. Faith continued to study him as they drank, trying to figure out what his usual scene was because this didn't seem like it.

The way she was treating that drink, he was going to need to find another way to get her guard down. All he really needed was an opportunity to get his lips on hers. Which, given the way she was looking at him, wouldn't take much longer.

He just smiled at her, as he lifted his own drink again. A mischievous smile that made promises she couldn't even imagine. "Play your cards right, and you'll get an demonstration." He punctuated it with downing the last of his drink, not taking his eyes off of her face.

There was something so casual about the challenge. Faith was used to men being easy, all it took was a flash of skin, the right moves, and most of them were putty in her hands. This one was throwing down challenges. If she played her cards right. It was novel and made her smirk at him as he downed the rest of his drink.

"I've always been a show and tell kind of girl," she replies back, another sip of her drink going down all too easily. His eyes never leave her face and she returns the favor. It's almost like a staring game but there's a hunger there in her own gaze. She came out tonight for a reason and he had been the best bet all night.

His eyebrows lifted slightly at her words. A little intrigue, a little surprise, a little eager, and a whole lot of hunger. There was always a chance that she was playing the game the same way he did, vague promises that weren’t entirely lies, but sure stretched the truth nearly to breaking. But he’d always heard a slayer would sooner go for the throat, or rather the heart, before trading playful words with a vampire. Her little trainees sure had shown that was the case. He’d need to get her out of the bar to know for sure.

The bartender attempted to interrupt their staring contest, but Jerry didn’t so much as blink when the guy asked if he wanted a refill. Jerry just slid the glass toward him and said, “Just a beer.” When the bartender asked what kind, all he said was “surprise me.” But he shifted slightly toward Faith, making it as much to her as to the bartender.

As far as Faith was concerned, the only thing about him that she needed to be worried about was if he was going to tap out before she got hers. She didn't suspect him for what he was, didn't suspect that this was anything other than a night out and a conversation that was its own form of foreplay. This was the part she only sometimes enjoyed. Sometimes she was too eager to get someone back to her place and between her legs and all pretense of conversation was forgotten. Here, the man had dropped a challenge.

That "surprise me" was certainly something she intended to do when she closed the gap between them and stepped into his personal space. Her hand came out to brush through his hair before her grip tightened in the strands and she was pulling his face down to hers for a kiss that left little to the imagination. She wanted to chase the taste of that apple martini to see what the appeal was.

If Jerry noticed the bartender setting the glass down by his elbow, he certainly made no show of it. His attention was entirely on Faith as she made her move. To a human man, it may have come as a surprise. But he'd been waiting for it, hoping for it. That tug on his hair met momentary resistance, before leaning down and letting her take the lead.

Hidden in that moment before their lips met, his fangs extended. He pressed his tongue to the tip of one, barely breaking the skin. In the next, they were gone. So when their lips met, all that that remained were a few drops of blood. So little it was barely detectable under the overpowering artificial apple flavor still lingering on his tongue. Not enough for him to claim control but enough to give her...a nudge.

She wasn't the only one to put a little heat into that kiss. His hand pressed to her lower back, pulling her closer, as his lips showed her what four centuries of practice gave him. He knew exactly how to get the blood pumping.

When Faith finally pulled away from the kiss she was breathing hard, anxious to skip the rest of any conversation when she could be back at his place, and they could both be naked. If the man could kiss like that then she wanted to know what else he could do.

"You attached to that beer or do you want to get out of this place?" Faith didn't care if she was considered forward. He hadn't exactly left much in the way to serve as anything but encouragement.

She wasn't about to pretend that she was some meek little wallflower, she tended to take what she wanted and in the moment, she wanted him. It didn't make him special. Still, it was an occasion to be celebrated when she found someone that she actually wanted to bed in every way instead of the checklist that only had a few marks on it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For faiththatfuelsu

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject