The Wolf and the Unicorn

Somehow, a month had passed since the night they'd met. Beckett found it mildly unsettling how quickly he'd adapted to being with Antigone. A loner by nature, he found himself enjoying her presence beside him; as suspicious as the next vampire, he nevertheless put his trust in her as he would not have in most others. And by far, the most alluring aspect of her company was the mutual attraction -perhaps lust might be a better word for it- he thought with a chuckle- that they had for one another. It's the blood, he mused. They'd shared a taste of one another's blood, after all. One drink was all it took to ensnare a mortal, but for another Kindred, it took three. The first awakened feelings of attraction and regard; the second intensified these. It was the third drink that bound one Kindred's soul to another in a Blood Bond. That, Beckett reasoned, could be the only explanation for his feelings for her, which seemed to intensify nightly. Face it, he told himself, shaking his head in mild disbelief, you're falling in love with her. You didn't think that sort of thing happened to Cainites, did you? He closed the book he'd been reading and set it on the table; given his current train of thought, he doubted he'd be able to continue with the rather dry treatise on Koldunic magic.





For the last four weeks, he'd spent his days asleep in her arms. Their nights together were full of impassioned kisses and furtive caresses. He ached to make love to her, but the fear that physical intimacy of that level was not possible for their kind kept him from making any overtures. In the early years after his Embrace, he'd attempted to discover whether physical pleasure was still possible for him, and found to his dismay that avenue appeared closed forever to him. Since then, he'd sought to sublimate any need for physical pleasure through other outlets, and had until now been successful.





The woman is driving me to distraction, he thought, rubbing his eyes. Still, he considered with a smile, he had no real objections to her presence in his nights. She shared his passions for knowledge and discovery, and he appreciated her dry wit and insight. These, along with the fact that he found her to be (despite her protestations to the contrary) quite attractive, made for a potent combination and one that he was not about to refuse.





Her one-woman crusade against the Ba'ali was something he wanted to learn more about. Beckett was of course familiar with the stories of the Ba'ali Wars and how Salubri warriors played an important part in opposing the demon-worshippers. Antigone's mission, however, seemed to him to have more of the flavor of a personal vendetta than the simple carrying on of a Clan tradition. She knew the Ba'ali, at least the ones in this particular pack, by name, and had to her own admission been hunting them for a long time indeed. She'd clashed with them on numerous occasions that she'd mentioned, usually leading to the Final Death of one or more of the demonologists, but admitted to having occasionally sustained injuries severe enough at their hands to merit some serious healing. Another thing that puzzled him was that she healed as well as fought; anything he'd ever heard about or read of the Salubri suggested that they followed one path or the other, never both.





Beckett stood and stretched, wondering how long until she'd return. He'd hunted quickly tonight; a jogger careless enough to pay more attention to his iPod than his surroundings had crossed his path shortly after he'd set out. Rather than spend the rest of the night prowling the city, he decided to return to the house and wait for Antigone to come back from her hunting. Restless and a little impatient, he began pacing the length of the room.





Somehow, she'd managed to find out more about him than he'd revealed to any other in all his years. He found himself telling her about his mortal days in England, his travels across the Continent and some of his training. They'd talked about his long friendship with the Malkavian prophet Anatole, and his association with the Lasombra assassin Lucita. But despite all his revelations to her about his own past, he still knew precious little about her. She'd grown up in Greece, she'd told him; she had loved her father very much and always smiled when she recalled times they'd spent together. In the course of her travels, she'd learned to read and write over a dozen languages, and spoke at least half a dozen more semi-fluently. She fought like a hellcat with sword, dagger, fists and feet, he thought with a grin and rubbed absently at a bruise one of her kicks had left when they sparred on the rooftop the previous night. She healed wounds so thoroughly that they left no scars. And that was about the sum total of his knowledge of the woman. How old was she? He'd put a guess at early twenties for the age she'd been when Embraced, but how long ago she'd seen her last sunrise, he had no inkling. He'd met ancients of their kind, and she did not act like they did; she was almost alive with emotion most of the time, and held tightly and proudly to any traces of her humanity that remained, but he'd bet his last dollar she was no childe of the modern nights.





And that was yet another thing that rankled him. He knew relatively little about her;how could he possibly fall in love with a woman he barely knew? Rationally, it made little sense. But then again, he sighed, since when has love been rational?





The jangle of keys in a lock broke him from his reverie, and he turned to see Antigone coming in the door, her face flushed from recent feeding. "You're back early," she said, smiling at him. "Everything alright?"





He nodded and crossed the room to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her. Her skin was as cold as the near-freezing air outside, and he took her hands in his to warm them. Granted, his body temperature was the same as the rest of the room, but it was considerably warmer in the cozy brownstone than it was out in the mid-November night. "You're freezing," he said as he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them.





"Not that it matters, but yeah, it's cold outside." He released her hands and she shrugged out of the long coat she'd been wearing, draping it over the back of a couch.





He grinned wolfishly at her. "I might be able to warm you up, if you'd like."





Antigone's eyebrows raised and she grinned. "I think I just may take you up on that offer. Did you have something specific in mind?"





Beckett motioned with his head in the direction of the bedroom. "Oh, I have several specifics in mind," he smiled, and walked down the hall. She chuckled softly and followed him.





She reached to flick off the light switch, but he shook his head and pulled her to him, kissing her and running his hands through her hair. She moaned softly and trailed kisses across his face and down his neck, and he felt a flare of arousal as she gently, without breaking the skin, nipped at the hollow of his throat. He gave a low growl and with a gentle shove, sent her falling back to the bed. He pounced on her and pinned her down, kissing her with a passionate intensity that showed no signs of abating.





Antigone slid her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt and ran her fingernails over the skin of his back with almost- but not quite enough- force to draw blood. The sensation seemed to set him alight with desire, and with the barest effort, his talons tore her clothes from her body. She laughed and pulled the shirt over his head, and fumbled with the button-fly of his jeans; he simplified matters for her by shredding these as well and tossing them aside.





This was, in all their weeks together, the first time she'd let him see her fully naked in the light. "Dear gods, Antigone," he breathed, "You are amazing." And it was true; the swell of her full breasts and hips, contrasting with the taut muscles of her arms and legs, were enough to drive a man mad with desire. At least this man, anyway, he thought with a smile.





She blushed and tried to cover herself with the sheet, but he snatched it from her and raked his gaze up and down her body. She pulled him to her and kissed him, running her hands across his chest and down over his abdomen. A rising heat had been building in his groin, and it threatened to burst into wildfire as she reached lower and with a feather-light touch brushed a fingertip over the head of his cock.





The fire exploded and coursed up his spine, and reflexively he sent a surge of blood to the long-unused organ; it swelled with blood and was almost instantly erect. Oh my; I suppose that answers that question, a distant part of his mind acknowledged. He moved atop her and thrust his hips against hers, his cock brushing through the dark golden curls and pressing against her opening.





Antigone gasped and opened her eyes. "Beckett, I...I've never done this..."





"Shh..." he pressed a finger to her lips. "Do you want to?" At her nod, he kissed her and traced a path along her jaw with the tip of his tongue. "It will hurt, but I'll be as gentle as possible." She nodded again, and her eyes met his with a blazing intensity. "I...I want you inside me," she whispered. He closed his eyes and felt a shiver of desire course up his spine. "I need you, Antigone," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, and with agonizing slowness, he entered her.





She gave a soft cry of pain and closed her eyes, not expecting it to hurt as much as it did, and he stopped to hold her tightly to him. "Let me know when it doesn't hurt as much," he whispered, and she nodded. A moment later, she opened her eyes and met his gaze, nodding, and he slowly thrust his full length into her. She moaned and arched her back, and met his next thrust with her own. Another thrust, and another;their kisses became more urgent; on the next thrust, he threw back his head and she reached forward, pulling him to her and plunging her fangs into the skin where his neck and shoulder met. A brilliant flash of ecstasy flooded him, and his fangs slipped into her neck. The taste of her blood was intoxicating, the feel of his blood being drawn into her mouth exhilarating. As they drank from one another, his thrusts into her became more and more fervent as he felt his climax approaching. This can't be happening, I must be dreaming...this isn't possible... he thought, but the force of his orgasm sent all thoughts fleeing and he pulled his mouth free of her. "Yesyesyesyes...oh gods, Antigone," he moaned, and collapsed atop her as his body shook, holding her so very close and tight.





So that's what it's like, she thought with a very self-satisfied smile and held him close to her, his head pillowed on her breasts, her fingers stroking his face and winding through his dark hair. It certainly was well worth waiting for. She extended her senses ever so slightly and was rewarded with seeing the brilliant rose of his aura. He loves me. He doesn't have to say it for me to know it to be true. She yearned to say the words herself, to tell him how she felt, but despite what they'd just shared, wasn't certain how he would react. No matter. I love him, and I know he loves me. That's enough for me.





Beckett felt himself swimming in a drowsy reverie of thought and emotion. My god, I am completely and hopelessly in love with her, he thought, and even though a distant part of his soul twinged with alarm at the idea, he smiled and reveled in the sensation. He turned to look at her, and the expression on her face seemed to say that she was feeling something quite similar. He longed to tell her how he felt, but he was still a bit uncomfortable with admitting the truth of his emotions to himself, never mind confessing them to her. He leaned up and kissed her, drawing her lower lips between his and nipping the flesh with his teeth, drawing a small drop of dark blood which he lapped up eagerly.





Antigone moaned softly in the back of her throat, and the sound set Beckett's senses afire once again. He kissed her and slid his once-more erect cock within her soft folds, relishing the way she moved with him and the beatific smile on her face as she met his thrusts with her own, her legs wrapping around his and drawing him deeper into her. She bit his shoulder and shivered with pleasure as she tasted his blood, and he responded by leaning down and drawing one of her breasts to him, running his tongue in circles around the nipple before gently sinking his teeth into the tender flesh and drinking from her again. I could make love to her until dawn, he thought with a smile...and proceeded to do just that.