Bad Blood Part II

Title: Bad Blood Part II
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Matt and Dom are vampires with a complicated relationship. "I love him and I hate him, I need him and I need to get away from him."
Feedback: Oh yeah, right there, don't stop......
Disclaimer: This never happened. This isn't real. Nothing is real. The Matrix has you all.
Warning: Violence, gore, vampire sex.

I am indebted to stefanyeah and ashamedbliss for drawing my attention to some flaws in my writing - basically, my habit of squashing my dialogue into paragraphs. I've gone back through the first chapter of this and corrected that, I've done the same to the first two chapters of Run and will do the same to Temptation/Shadows.Oh, and ashamedbliss wanted vampire sex, I've done my best to oblige.


Curses and grunts of pleasure fill the air as Dom slams into me, his fingers digging into my hips. My own hands grip the dumpster in front of me and I can feel the metal buckling beneath my fingertips. He picks up the pace but it's still not enough. I reach behind me and pry his hand from my hip, breaking at least one of his fingers in the process, and bring his wrist to my lips.

Biting down, I moan happily as hot blood fills my mouth. Dom grunts in approval and I feel his teeth sink into the nape of my neck, tearing and twisting the flesh there. His blood in my mouth, my blood in his: the sensation overwhelms me and I cry out, my scream muffled by Dom's wrist, as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. I'm dimly aware of Dom still moving in me, still panting, still straining for his own release. But, just as I begin to come down from my high, I feel him falter, then thrust a couple of times in an odd sort of non-rhythm. He snorts against my neck and I feel a wet heat flood me as he collapses against me.

We don't speak as we pull ourselves together, rearranging our clothes, wiping the blood from our lips. Dom winces slightly as he pops his fingers back into place. We each take a dead man to search, slipping whatever money we find into our own pockets. Dom takes my hand as we walk back to my place.

It's still dark when we get back to my room, but only just, and I think we're both relieved to be inside. My place isn't much, just a medium-sized room with a tiny bathroom but really, what else do I need? I turn on the lamp and Dom hums in appreciation when he realizes the one window has been boarded up - but that wasn't my doing. The last tenant had a bad day and threw himself out the window, not bothering to open it first, and the manager hadn't gotten around to replacing it when I moved in. I told him not to bother, since I'm not a big fan of sunlight. With my pale skin, that's easy to believe.

We undress each other slowly, taking our time. This second encounter is slow, gentle, the complete opposite of our frantic coupling in the alley. Dom's fingers trace a lazy path up and down my back as we move together. Afterwards we lie together in the dark, his chest against my back. He nuzzles my neck, kissing the places he bit and his hand strokes my stomach.

"I missed you." This is the first thing he's said since we left the alley.

I squeeze his hand gently. "I missed you, too." And I did. I may as well admit the truth, if only to myself: if he hadn't tracked me down I would have gone crawling back to him. I need him, like an addict needs a drug.

My train of thought is abruptly derailed by the sounds coming from the next room. I'm right at the end of the hall, so I only have one neighbour. But the walls here are paper-thin and this one man makes enough noise for three. I feel Dom twitch in annoyance as the man in the next room goes about his morning routine, but the worst is yet to come.

And here it comes: he goes into his bathroom and as he relieves himself, he begins to whistle. It's a high, piercing sound guaranteed to drill right through a man's skull and set his teeth on edge. It's the last straw for Dom and he starts to get up. "That's it. THAT is it. I'm going to rip his head off and shove it down the damn toilet-"

I grab his arm and pull him back down. "Don't. The sun'll be up by now and he'll go to work in a few minutes. Just ignore it." Dom settles down again, grumbling to himself. My neighbour slams his door and walks off down the hall, still whistling. Now I can relax. I close my eyes and let myself drift off.

I know something's wrong the second I wake. I switch on the lamp and find the space beside me empty. The next room is silent and that's definitely not right. No television, no rattling of pots and pans. I can't hear anything, but I can smell something: blood, a lot of blood. I dress quickly and go to the other room. Dom is standing in the middle of it, dressed only in boxer shorts, covered in gore. He steps back, inviting me to admire his work. As I take in the scene before me I have to hand it to him: when it comes to tearing a human body apart, he has the eye of an artist and the skill of a surgeon. My neighbour is on his bed. And the floor. And the walls. But wait, there's more. A length of intestine dangles from the lightbulb and, when I look in the bathroom, I see Dom's followed through on his earlier threat. He did all this, I didn't hear a thing, and I bet nobody else in the building did either.

I gesture helplessly at the mess. "Why?"

He shrugs casually. "I was hungry, and bored. I thought you'd be happy. He was fucking annoying, you can't deny it."

He has no idea. I've been here for about a month, listening to the man in this room, hearing him snore, fart and masturbate - that's always a special treat - and I probably would have snapped and drained him myself if Dom hadn't beaten me to the punch. Well it's done now, can't be undone, so what's the point of arguing about it?

Dom follows me back to my room and I sit on the edge of the bed as I watch him wash himself and get dressed. "I have to find another place to live now."

"Yeah, you have to leave all this." His face contorts into an exaggerated mask of sorrow. "What a tragedy."

I ignore him as I put some clothes in a bag and zip it up. I don't bother locking the door as we leave. Dom grabs my arm as we round the corner and points at the ceiling. "Cameras? This place has cameras?" He gapes in disbelief. "The cockroaches are so big they look like they should be paying rent, the walls would probably collapse if someone breathed on them and they can afford cameras?"

He pulls me along to the lobby where the manager, I think his name is Frank, is sitting behind a counter. Dom vaults over the counter like the showoff he is and drags him into the back. I drop my bag and follow them. Frank is pointing at a small office, that must be where they keep the electronic equiptment. Dom winks at me.

"That was easy. I didn't even have to threaten to torture him. I just grabbed him and he cracked like an egg."

"Is all this really necessary?"

"You want to walk out of here and leave video footage of you, of us, behind? It's too risky."

"Maybe you should have thought about taking risks before you decided to redecorate."

"You're always so cranky when you get up." He shoves Frank at me. "Here, eat something, you'll feel better."

Dom goes into the office and I can hear him wrecking the place as Frank stares at me, looking for some kind of comfort. But he's come to the wrong place for that. I make it quick, I can do that much. Dom joins me again, snapping DVDs and dropping them on the floor. "I miss videotapes, they were so much fun to break. Squeeze hard enough and they just exploded."

"Technology marches on."

"The old days were better."

I know what he means. Things were so much easier before we had to worry about being filmed on cameraphones and splashed all over YouTube. But I can't help myself, I can't let a remark like that slide.

"Old days, Dom? Was that before they invented the car or before they invented the wheel?"

Dom glares at me - I hit a nerve, as I knew I would. He's as sensitive about his age as he is vain about his looks. If we really didn't show up in mirrors he would have gone insane decades ago. As I retrieve my bag and we leave the mess behind I wonder, how long will it last, this fragile peace? Something tells me it won't be long before we split apart and the cycle begins again, a cycle that began the night he turned me.