Shadowglass

In a mirrored corner, Dennis grins and stretches against warm glass, relishing the warm, clean desire flowering inside. Oh, now he understands Andy’s trouble—yes, he does. She’s very tasty, this Icygirl. So fresh and clean and sweet like plums he could eat all day and not get sick.

And the madness sniggering in her veins calls to him like nothing else. She’s seen the mirror. She’d know him. She’d understand.

But that was close. He giggles, hiding his face with cheeky hands. They nearly spotted him, Andy and his succulent death wish girl. She caught him unawares, her pretty tears warming his heart. The bright candy taste of her confusion drenched him with impulsive desire, and he showed himself before it was time. Lucky the snarky faeboy had interrupted.

Lucky, and maddening. She’s glorious, and Dennis nearly stole her from Andy in one sneaky little switch. Now he’ll have to try again.

He straightens, stretching out the sweet cramp in his loins. Beyond time Andy got laid. Dennis hasn’t time for such squalid things. He has a queen to worship. Queen Icygirl, mirror lady of chaos.

Beyond the comforting shadows, Apples and her friend walk away, and Dennis smiles and watches the muscles in her legs move, tight and tasty under the thin golden membrane of her skin. He can feel that movement on his palms, as if he’s sliding them up over her thighs, pulling her down onto him to kiss and bite and love her despair away. . . .

Mmm. Naughty. No way to think about your queen.

But Andy played his tricks on her, the svelte gold-brushed pretty, turning her on, making her breath shorten and her juicy nipples tighten and her body ache, and Dennis couldn’t help but enjoy it. The berry scent of her sex still tingles his nose.

And now this other thing, festering inside him like greasy black cancer, sucking away his life and his energy. She wants Andy, though that blue metal freak swats her away like a mosquito, and the stumbling hot shimmer of emotion wasting between them boils Dennis’ blood like a furnace. Jealousy, pure and savage, spoiling his fresh desire.

If she were his, Dennis would treat her like the queen she is. Hold her, keep her, kiss her softly, as Andy never will. Beg to drink away her misery, open that salty conduit to heaven with his claw and let her sorrow bleed away. She deserves no less.

Dennis scrapes back sparking hair, and it cuts his fingers, sharp like wire. Blood oozes. He licks dripping knuckles. Next time, he won’t let Andy misuse her so. He won’t hide, not anymore.

Now, she’s half-buried in the crowd, gold-dusted tendons curving in her naked limbs as she cuddles her handsome firefae boy. Her breasts press into his chest, soft flesh swelling to escape her tight dress. Her friend sneaks his fingers into her fruity hair, and she smiles, sharp white teeth gleaming.

Dennis watches, discomfort scraping his nerves like a wire brush, that writhing envycancer growing inside him until his guts hurt. She’s very pretty. His balls still ache from the episode with Andy, and watching her dance lithe and slow against hot flamefae flesh isn’t helping. So fresh, so clean. Even Andy said so.

Dennis licks salty lips, transfixed. Andy wants to have her, taste her, love her, slide himself inside her and feel her soft wetness on his metalbright skin. It might be nice. Dennis wonders if she’d like that with him, and dryness tickles his throat until he coughs it away, flushing.

Andy’s always done those sordid, empty things for him. Dennis finds no delight in them, not anymore.

But such thoughts about his queen are unworthy. Disgusting. He bangs his head back into the glass as punishment. Metal crunches, and glass shards spike his scalp, deliciously painful. But his greedy gaze slides back to her, and he stares intent as her luscious golden lips open for sly firefairy kisses.

Foul sweat crusts him, burning, and he wants to scrape it off with wild hands, wash himself all over until this horrid lust is gone. They aren’t clean, the things he’d like to do with her. They aren’t nice. They don’t mean anything. And he knows where they lead.

He’d like to take that dirty firefae and rip his pretty head from his neck, too. But Ice looks happy. Dennis’ got no cause.

A whiff of cold fairy blood brightens his nose like berries. It’s her. Stolen. He rips his gaze away to follow her scent, glad to have something else to do. There it goes, a splash of her, staining some thin white vampire’s breath. Some filthy tricksy animal that’s tasted her, drunk from her, knows her touch and her smile and her damp golden flesh. It won’t do. She shouldn’t be treated like that. Her smell belongs to Dennis.

Rage fires his frustration, and he jerks himself upright to follow, muscles twitching hard.
Around the corner, where the strobes don’t stab and the green neon fades in smoke-throttled distance, he slides eager fingers over the thieving vampire’s shoulder, pulling him to a halt. “I like how you smell.”

A lie. He stinks, this thoughtless murderer, stinks of meat and rude lust, and the only nice thing about him is Appolonnia’s faint stolen flavor. Dennis savors his rage, swallows it, lets it spread until he’s quivering with bright fury. He’ll lick that berry delight off before he’s done. He’ll scrape it off with his nails if he has to, stick his tongue down the boy’s dying throat and suck it out.

“Sure you do.” The boy shrugs him off, coal-dyed hair falling, but his penciled blue eyes jerk a swift double take, and he hesitates, the hunger that whitens his thin cheeks no doubt weakening his resolve. “I mean, thanks. You, um, looking for someone?”

Dennis tightens his grip, cold vampire veins pulsing under his palm. Bones shift, only a suggestion of his strength. A promise. “I’d like to show you something.”

Sapphire glints in a purple splash of eyebrow, and the boy’s lip curves in a shadow of lust. “Look, I don’t normally do guys—”

“—but you’ll make an exception for me.” Dennis lets the vampire taste the iron-rich scents on his breath. “I’m . . . jaded, you see. Bored. Over it. Looking for something special. Something . . . delicious.”

The boy’s drugged eyes glaze. “Umm . . .”

Dennis wets his ear with a seductive sigh. “You can swallow. I won’t struggle. Or I will. Whatever you want. I promise you’ll like it.”

The vampire licks ruby lips, fresh spit dripping on hungry teeth. “Okay. I’m in. Can we . . . umm . . . make it quick?”

“Oh, it won’t take long.” Dennis slides his palm over the boy’s throat, testing the skin with brittle claws, and tugs the boy closer until those raw red lips quiver under his. “Do you know death, beautiful boy? Have you tasted it?”

“Oh, yeah. Tastes like hell.” Spit flecks dance in the vampire’s snarl, strawberry-rich with Apples' blood.

Dennis attacks with an angry kiss, sucking that stolen bliss from cold, rotten lips. His pulse quickens at last on the sultry scent of surrender, and he grins. “Then come show me.”

Notes

So I'm supposed to be doing my art and music assignments which are due tomorrow but.....
I think i would rather write about Andy then empathy and the mozart effect.
Hope you guys enjoy :)

Stay Weird Baby Bats
-Grimm