dog teeth

Brunette hair tangled around his fingers. Stiff with hairspray the strands snagged, drawing a censorious hiss out of the woman pressed up against his side on the bench seat. ”Watch it honey, you’ll have me going bald before you’ve even grabbed the reins for the ride.” She reached up, batted his fingers away. Mal sighed faintly, trailing his hand down the back revealed by the top cut low and back. The skin was cold, almost as much as his own, prominent knobs of bone bumping under his fingertips before he settled them in that low U at the waist. A body boiled down by years in places like this, the attitude the same.

He reached out for his glass, sipped at the drink as he side eyed her. A little sway already, the half bottle of vodka she’d put away straight finally biting. About bloody time. Mal sighed as she tipped her head back, the vodka, not even watered down with the ice cubes that’d been in the glass at the start, disappearing almost in an instant. There hadn’t been any playing hard to get, not even any playing. Shame.

She twisted on the seat, her grin growing loose around the edges, fingers curling in the front of his shirt to anchor herself as she almost went over backwards. Not just drunk but melting against him in that sloppy way that held no appeal. No bright sparkle of eyes or amazement as he trailed an idle circle at the base of her spine, pulling her back in. ”Watch it there love, or I’ll be pickin’ you up from down there.” Mal tipped his head over the railing, mock wincing. Maybe that was gonna be the easiest way to get her down there, towards his car. A hand under her knees, a little leverage and she’d slip right over.

He was still considering it as the door to the porch area slapped open. A knowing look from another customer that had Barbie – Betsy? Belinda? One of those B names – gathering herself in against his chest with a giggle that left breath that could’ve knocked a small child down drunk huffing into his throat. ”You gonna take me home sugar? Pick up those reins?” Teeth nipped at her lower lip but at least two were already darkening, looking like they’d soon be on their way out. All too redolent of the madams and the girls at the bawdy houses. Rot setting in bit by bit until even the most desperate strangers wouldn’t press a coin or two into their palms for an hour of company.

Mal didn’t answer her at first. Just grabbed for his glass to knock the last of his shot back. A feed somewhere the town’s feral packs of hunters wouldn’t stumble over him with that ruby stain smeared all in his beard. ”I’ll give you some sort of a trot,” he promised, injecting that bawdy sound of promise into his voice as he pushed to his feet. Drawing her up with him, he buried his face in her throat a moment, buzzing his mouth against her throat in a way that had her squealing and him sighing. He might as well have just found another willing donor at the hospital, the imbalance between the size of the drink and the effort needed not worth all of this.

Still tossing the pros and cons back and forth in his head he hauled the girl down those same steps he’d taken with Krista three days before. The drunk had her hand down her cleavage before they’d gone a half dozen steps, fumbling at the car keys buried somewhere down there. A beep on the street that had Mal snorting. If she thought she was gonna drive in that state she would’ve had another thing coming. ”Better gimme them love, don’t want cha pasted all over the street.” Winking at her brought on a burst of wrestling that meant it was long minutes later that they were staggering towards the end of the alleyway.

Another koala like cling as the woman almost went down. Mal slipped an arm around her waist, forcing out laughter as she draped herself against him. Behind her there was a shift in the piss yellow light filtering in from the street, a perky little voice that had Mal lifting his head from where the brunette had tried to drag his face down into her throat. Krista.

Mal frowned, straightening up as the brunette found a steadiness that he’d thought was long gone. The news that her car was heading past on a tow truck, worn tires bumping down the street leaving her clattering away. ”Didn’t mean to?” Mal asked, a dark amusement wrapped in her words. ”Funny that, ain’t it. There one minute, poof the next.” Suspicion had his hazel eyes narrowing faintly. Was it a loss? Probably not. There’d been a reek of cigarettes clinging to the woman like perfume, alcohol wafting from every pore, probably souring up what was in her veins.

Clucking his tongue, Mal sidled closer to Krista. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, rocking back on his heels in front of her. Wow. Her word of amazement spinning in his head, trying to wash away the fact that he didn’t let vampire lightning strike twice in the same place … or fourth there, as it would be now. ”Lemme guess, love, you’re gonna offer yourself up on a plate? Michelin starred meal. Didn’t get your fill the last time?” Maybe he should’ve known better than to return to the scene of the crime, now he had her clinging on worse than the brunette had done.

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 949

Scruffy fur, missing in patches, filthy and reeking of the rotting fish odour that clung to everything down at the docks. Bones poking through scant flesh, rife with fleas. The dogs had run wild around the docks. Likely to try and bite your hand off if you weren’t careful but when they were in the mood they’d belly up to you, especially at night. Tails wagging, whining like puppies, trying to do everything to be near you.

Minus the stink, fleas and mange, that was what Krista reminded him of. He hadn’t seen her off with a swift boot to the bum the way the sailors had done the dogs, he’d been downright kind when he’d shuffled out of his motel room eventually, but she reminded him of one of those dogs now. Big hazel eyes looking up at him, tail wagging the rest of her so to speak, until he’d questioned just what had happened and then the teeth started coming out.

The full on sulk almost had him laughing. His eyes stayed narrowed down at her, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, weight rocking back on his heels. That meek woman who’d followed him out here without a single qualm the last time had grown canny … and addicted. ”Maybe,” he crooned. ”Some folks around here with green eyes should keep their noses out of my dinner’s business.” The temptation had been there to add some extra dimension to what had been going on with the brunette but the words would’ve emerged with a pained groan. The soup chicken carcass had held little to no appeal in that way, every bit of lude interest he’d shown towards her dragged up from the dregs of his mind, not enough to stir his body.

Not that he was gonna wipe that pout off of the girl’s lips with that knowledge. She’d been crafty alright, aiming to throw herself back at his feet in a far more cunning way than she had the last time.

He’d clucked his tongue over the games but he was already moving closer, hands dropping to slip into his pockets before he came to a stop. That pout was disappearing, leaving her looking like a puppy that’d peed where it shouldn’t have done instead, no teeth now, more eyes. Lashes fluttering like they’d done when his lips had latched onto her throat. Only now she wasn’t clutching at him as she did it. Mal made a low sound, lips curved as he saw her gulp. Oh it was on her mind too. ”It’s the nature of the game love. We never get our fill.” An eternity of a burning thirst he had to keep tighter under wraps with the Doc in town and all that scrutiny on them.

Too late to fuss about what he’d done with this one already. He’d given in to her plea the last time, had let her remember what he’d done and now she weren’t just wandering into the bar, looking for answers about what’d happened to her, she was back, actively looking for it with that look on her face. ”Lookin’ to be five stars are you, Krista?” That light tut of his tongue as he pulled a hand free to come up and close over hers. Mal dipped his head, scruff brushing her jaw as he murmured in her ear. ”Casting your line out and fishin’?” A hum that rumbled through his chest and Mal was sighing the sound out. Well, one meal had clattered off after all. He doubted it’d take more to convince his fresh meal to head back with him. ”Each is definitely their own – sweet as cotton candy, boozy enough to rot your gut out on second hand liquor. You wanna hear that in two hundred years I’ve never had better love?” A lie, there’d been plenty that’d left him sprawled, sated, blood drying on his skin and that hunger chased all the way down to his toes, but in Mystic Falls? Maybe there’d been no contest yet.

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 676

The verbal smack on the bum didn’t seem to have been that far off the mark. The minute it was out of his mouth she was huffing out a breath, those hazel eyes sliding away from his. One night with him had brought her sniffing back around, looking to fill in those gaping holes in her head with the truth and a second taste, the second had brought this on. A reminder of why he wiped all their pretty little heads before they were let out into the big wide world. They weren’t as likely to come back all squirmy and desperate for another go around, but they were just as capable of stirring up trouble.

Don’t draw attention, don’t leave anybody behind who had a clue who you were. Basic rules from the doc and for a flutter of those lashes he’d broken them both. Mal still felt his lips pursing with that measure of glee at her reaction though. He’d done it once before, although there was a chance all of them had been slaughtered before he’d even rumbled out of San Francisco in the back of a horse and cart with the Doc’s stuff rattling around beside him. Another mess left well behind and at the worst Krista would be one of those. Eventually the Doc and Mathias would grow tired of the town and their little raft of successes and it’d be a far more comfortable ride than that bloody cart.

Would she try and trail after them? Driving desperately along behind them, not wanting to let him go.

Mal sighed lightly. He’d be the one getting the slap on the wrist then and he wasn’t ready to cut himself loose from the Doc and his fun so this had to stop one way or another. The lifeline he threw her was probably going to come back and wrap around his neck but he’d done it anyway, leaving himself wide open to it as he covered the hand she planted against his chest with his own. Dipping his head to whisper in her ear, the mocking tone doing nothing to stop her from squirming under his touch. He laughed lightly, his teeth – human blunt for the minute – latching on the rim of her ear for a second before he drew back, humming. ”You really do wanna end up as far down that rabbit hole as you can get, don’t you love?” He should’ve shook his head, divesting her of any idea that this had been anything more than a decent couple of meals, but Mal stopped himself.

More than likely he would’ve had himself a third meal from the same table even with that tongue lashing out and wiping that disingenuous little smile off of her mouth, but who wanted to be stuck with a pout all through dinner. Not him, even if regret was gonna bite him on the bum later.

So he gave her what she wanted, still with just enough mockery that he didn’t feel his teeth rotting out his mouth with the sweet sincerity of it all. Those hazel eyes blew wide, her mouth hanging open like he’d just called himself Santa Clause and told her every present in his sack was all hers. The chuckle rolled out but Mal just clucked his tongue lightly, his own eyes narrowing faintly. ”You don’t ‘ear many, do you love?” Considering the way she’d described his parents before he imagined there was likely more subtle disappointment than anything else when she got lit up like a sparkler, and was twice as lively.

Gosh darn. Jesus, she might as well have been one of the nuns he got stuck sailing with when him and the Doc had made the leap over Lake Superior just a year or two after they’d hooked up. All dolled up in their habits, faces pruning whenever he doffed his cap at them. Maybe they’d seen something – well, their Mother Superior definitely had before he’d had a little nibble of her on the poop deck one night.

In an instant she was breaking out of the small anchor of her hold and was bouncing up against him. Mal grimaced, glancing around the two of them as he awkwardly patted the small of her back. No witnesses but it probably wasn’t gonna be long before someone wandered out of the bar, not drunk enough to ignore the weirdness stage whispered out of Krista’s mouth. ”Not ‘ere,” he murmured in her ear, like it was their little secret. His hand slid lower as she reached for his own when she finished trailing her fingers all over him, patting her tush lightly in approval. ”Let’s get going, ‘ey love?” He’d have been heading that way anyway. This was just a little more excitement than he’d anticipated from the tipsy brunette and her wandering hands.

He was buggered. Mal hissed a breath out of gritted teeth as he looked down at that guileless face. She didn’t have it in her to be really manipulative, everything she felt lighting up right behind her eyes. ”Nothin’ like you’d expect, although the lack of indoor plumbing sucked. Nothing like a hot little shower to get you cleaned up before you go home.” He glanced around, giving her another steering little pat on her bum to get her moving towards his car. ”Just what did you learn about the olden days, Krista? What d’ya think all us old timers are like?” Mal smiled sweetly as he tugged open the car door and steered her neatly inside. He wasn’t about to tell her all about growing up in the whore house, or the years spent packed arse to cheek with the other poor buggers conscripted about her majesty’s floating hellhole.

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 959