Friday, November 15, 2019

#FridayFlash - Prison Break

Afternoon rolled around, and I was more restless than ever. I couldn't put my finger on it, couldn't ease the pressure I felt all the way to my soul, couldn't bring it to a head.

I wasn't the only one to feel it, either. Running my errands Downtown was an exercise in self-control, and I surprisingly made it through without committing murder. I did contemplate a little manslaughter, wondering if even that could take the edge off.

This was unusual for me. Far beyond my casual go-fuck-yourself attitude and aggressive disregard for most people. This felt more like the impatience of a million people was pressing in all at once, seeking an outlet through me.

Lightning arced across a cloudless sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Everyone around me gasped, turned, searched for the source of the phenomenon.

I shivered from head to toe as relief washed through me. A small moan slipped free, though no one else acknowledged it. The entire world felt still, at peace, and I dwelt in the moment.

Another boom of thunder, this one loud enough to rattle glass and thud in my bones, followed by a mighty roar.

My eyes shot to the sky and the source of the noise. The note went on and on, like a thousand electric guitars, and it began to echo through the canyons of concrete. I knew the only being that could make that noise, but I couldn't see it.

A dragon had entered this realm.

Hungry murmured and gasped when the roar ended, speculating as to the origin. Plane crash? Natural disaster? Terrorist attack?

Another roar began, and I saw him this time. Emerald green, too saturated to be from this world. Massive crest and broad wings, he kited above the city, toothy may open as he called for someone.

For me.

The resonate sound drew to an end, leaving a void in our ears. The opposite of ringing, like the absence of sound itself was vibrating within our skulls.

Humans cringed and fled as the mighty warrior descended into an intersection. I hurried toward him, pushing aside anyone who got in my way. He barely made it into the narrow space, wingtips striking the buildings, trash and debris stirred by the buffets.

We met exactly as he landed, and I suppressed a sob of relief, recognizing my beloved bondmate Azle. I couldn't form words, just opened myself as best I could.

Azle bowed his head and folded his wings. ~Your Majesty. The Firelords discovered your prison's location. With their help, you and the others shall be free again.~ His inner voice trembled with rage and joy and relief.

I touched his snout, tears flowing down my cheeks. "My dearest...I'm glad you finally came for me."

~Not for lack of trying.~ Bitterness filled his mental voice. ~They kept you well hidden.~

A smile crossed my lips. "I wasn't blaming you." I trailed my hand along his muzzle and cheek as I stalked toward my place upon his back. "I shall allow you first kill."

I mounted, and he trumpeted before taking to the air. Humans screamed below me, unable to comprehend what had just happened. I had no desire to explain it to them, only to get home and reclaim my lands.

Friday, November 8, 2019

#FridayFlash - Night Orderly

Felix pushed his cart down the hall, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. The cleaning crew had been by recently, and the air was still heavy with antiseptic. Most of the lights were off, the other nurses at the station were quiet, and all the patients' doors were closed.

He loved this time of night.

Felix rapped hard on the first door, then opened it and entered without being acknowledged. "Time for vitals," he announced, turning on one of the side lamps. The patient grumbled as she woke slowly.

He took her arm as she struggled to a sitting position, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her lower bicep with brusque motions. She grumbled under her breath, eyes closed, and frustration rolled off her in waves.

Breathing deep her emotions, a frisson of pleasure rolled up his spine. He'd been on the day shift too long, had missed this particular flavor.

There were more emotions furing the day, but Felix found it not to his taste. There was sorrow and stress, but too much hope and happiness. And far too busy for a proper feeding, for him to enjoy the depth of the bleakness.

He took her temperature, noted everything in her charts, then slowly removed himself from her room. She flopped back in her bed with a sigh, and Felix lingered in her doorway long enough to catch the wave of sleeplessness as she attempted to get comfortable.

This was the best. The hard work and body fluids were hardly a drawback in the face of the constant frustrated unease of sick people woken in the middle of the night. Felix even sometimes enjoyed the body fluids because it meant someone had lost control. Then there was often embarassment, worry, stress, sorrow, and a dozen other emotional flavors.

Moving to the next room to begin the process with the old man in there, Felix wondered anew if he was the first psychic vampire to figure out how perfect hospitals were for feeding.

Surely he wasn't, but in a decade of nursing, he'd yet to encounter another one. Not even the suggestion of one visiting the sick and dying. The grounds were so rich that many dozens of psi vamps could each feed until they were overfull and barely put a dent in the emotional supply.

Felix had to repeat himself to the old man, raising his voice. Papery skin felt clammy and dry in his grip, and Felix was rougher than strictly necessary. The old man cried out, and he mumbled an apology that he didn't mean. The pain was like a layer of frosting, a sweet and cool treat.

He sipped as he made his rounds, not needing to over-indulge. No need to let himself become intoxicated just because he was back where he belonged.

Felix smiled as he wheeled his cart back. Maybe he should let go, feed a little more. Maybe even cause someone to backslide a little, so they would marinate in their own stress.

Maybe even cause an emergency and have the excitement for dirt. Crash carts were always a good way to finish a meal.

Friday, November 1, 2019

#FridayFlash - Bedroom Work

Xavier closes the drapes, mahogany hair braided halfway down his back. I watch from my chaise lounge, ostensibly reading a book, though I keep stealing glances toward the gorgeous man.

No longer a youth, he still has a certain softness to him that hadn't been roughed away by time. His pale skin is still smooth, marred only by a single scar along his spine in his lower back.

And parallel claw marks across his shoulders.

My gaze lingers on those shoulders. Strong, exactly as broad as they need to be, capable of supporting his own weight and more. Sharply defined waystations between his long neck and his lithe torso.

Xavier pauses, sensing the weight of my stare, and I turn the page to pretend I wasn't. He says nothing, though I sense his humor as he continues preparing my rooms for the night.

Bare feet pad across the marble floor as he began lightning oil lamps. Nothing remarkable one way or the other, they did lead to his slender ankles and shapely calves, which lead to his lengthy thighs.

I bite my lip, following the line of his thighs to his tight hips. Narrow, slender, but in no way weak or unflexible. Very much flexible, as he was willing to prove over and over again.

He lights candles on the table beside me and I can smell him. Male musk and soap and incense with just a hint of desire. He likes when I watch him, though he's yet to put on a proper show. I wasn't going to give up my book until I know he really wants me too.

Another page turn, eyes away from Xavier.

The man brushes past me, touching my leg the entire way. Heat flashes through my limbs, and I sigh softly. Xavier says nothing, but his postures changes as he saunters to the post in the middle of my room. I watch him with hooded eyes as he glances over his shoulder. A single nod gives him the permission he sought.

Xavier unbuttons his pants but pushes them down only an inch. He licks his lips, holding my gaze, and reaches for the thick cuffs hanging above his head. With precise motions, he locks himself into place.

"What is on your mind?" I ask, voice low and husky, closing my book. This type of play was nothing new for us, including making him ask.

He closes his eyes, pressed a button on his cuffs, and small trails of blood run down his forearms.

The hunger snaps to life, roaring in my center, lashing at every nerve. I hadn't realized how much I need to feed, but it's all I can think about with his scent in my nostrils.

I rise, growling low in my throat, and let my vision focus only on his throat. Xavier tugs against his bonds, setting more blood free. I growl once more, control slipping.

He shudders when I grip his hair, yanking his body forward and his head back at the same time. I give no time to foreplay, go straight for his throat. Xavier groans, shudders, and collapses against me.

Blood pours into me in furious torrents, and I swallow as quickly as my mouth fills. I paw and claw at him, our bodies writhing in time with my drinking. He groans again.

I stop suddenly, crying out. I haven't lost control, but part of me wants to. Something about him drives me crazy, makes me want to act in ways I don't understand.

How did a girl get this lucky?