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It was Day Four of her transition when—ravenous and on the verge of a mental breakdown—Molly cornered Jim at his favorite pub two cities over.

“Did you kill those kids?” Her voice was quiet and demanding. Jim was the only person sitting at the bar, but there was a bartender a few feet away and Molly would’ve loved to rip her throat out, so if she inadvertently attracted her attention… It would be bad.

As expected, he acted like this was a joke. He swished his rum around in his glass and made a contemplative noise. “So many dead kids in the world, and my criminal web is quite extensive… You’ll have to be more specific.”

Molly wanted to slap him. It didn’t help that he looked effortlessly gorgeous as always, suit immaculate, not a hair out of place. Infuriating bastard. “I’m serious, Jim,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Sherlock suspects you! He is hot on the trail with this one, so if he traces it back to you—”

“Molly, do you hear yourself?” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “If he suspects me, it’s not me. If he’s figuring it out, it’s not me. That you honestly think anyone could trace anything back to me…” He tapped her on the nose with the tip of his index finger, if for no reason other than it was a cute nose. “You’re lucky I’m a forgiving man.”

“You swear you didn’t do it?” She knew she should drop it, but at that exact moment, the bartender tilted her head back to redo her ponytail, exposing her elegant, tempting neck, and if Molly didn’t stay distracted, she was going to snap it.

“Cross my heart. Any other concerns you’d like to bring to Dear Jim’s attention?”

Molly knew he was being sarcastic, but if the split urge to annihilate the bartender and light herself on fire was any indication, now was the time to tell him about her little problem.

She worked up her courage and admitted, “…Yes. Something’s wrong.”

Jim closed his eyes, undoubtedly regretting his life choices.

“Every time I drink from a blood bag, I throw up.”

He conjured up his look of surprise. “No! I’m shocked.”

Molly swallowed hard and leveled a glare at him. “My apologies. I thought I was speaking with Dear Jim the consulting vampire criminal, not Moriarty the asshat boss.”

A forged smile covered his lips, but his eyes stayed dead as ever. “You already know my advice.”

“I can’t,” she pressed. “I can’t start feeding on people while Sherlock’s around. Once he fakes his death, sure. I’ll have a nice long few years to get into the swing of things, and if I go off the rails for a while, he’ll never know. But not while I’m playing the role of Doting Pathologist. It was bad enough today when he brought John around; I was so hungry my face started…” She spread out her fingers and waved them around, the very memory making her want to have a meltdown all over again

Jim knocked back the last of his alcohol and gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re rather useless to this plan if you can’t be around Sherly’s doctor-turned-hunter without your veins popping up, Mollikins.”

“I-I know.” And then the bartender cut herself on a broken beer bottle and she couldn’t do this. Molly was so hungry she was shaking with the need to feed; being unable to keep anything down for three days will do that to a baby vamp. “I-I just don’t know what to do. Nothing works and I want to eat every person who walks by a-and…” She was on the verge of tears, which was just spectacular, really. “I don’t want to disappoint you…”

Jim groaned. “Uh-oh. Here come those pesky heightened emotions. Come on.” He slipped off his barstool and held out his hand.

She only hesitated a moment before taking it.

“Where are we going?” She made it a point to not inhale as he dragged her through various groups of people. She was feeling light-headed and knew that if she allowed herself to focus on their scent, she was done for.

Jim kicked open the door to the ladies’ restroom and pulled her inside.

“Much as I love dear ol’ Sebby,” he secured the lock on the door, “he was wrong: cold turkey won’t help. You need warm blood, from the vein.”

Molly’s eyebrows crinkled, the only non-panicky reaction she was exhibiting. She could feel her breath leaving her in short pants as much as she could hear it. Her own hyperawareness of her impending panic attack was pushing her even closer toward said impending panic attack. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…”

And then, Jim did something astonishing.

He rolled up the sleeve of his Westwood.

Molly gasped while he readjusted his cufflink. “What are you…”

He bit the heel of his palm, leaving behind a small double puncture wound in his flesh, and bringing just a hint of scarlet blood to the surface.

“Drink,” he commanded.

This was definitely not normal. She felt aroused, more so than she usually did around Jim. “Vampires can drink from other vampires?”

Jim made a face that would’ve been comical under other circumstances. “Weeeell, they can; it’s just uncommon as it’s kind of… personal.”

Molly couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blood pooling in his hand, becoming more and more copious by the second. She licked her lips. “Personal how?”

“Do you want to destroy Sherlock’s life or not?”

“Yes,” she answered automatically.

He motioned to his hand. “Well, then, my baby vamp. Bottoms up.”

She studied his hand for just a moment more, glanced at his face.

He gave a single encouraging nod.

And she obeyed. With one hand, she grasped his wrist; with the other, she wrapped her thin fingers around his larger ones. Tentatively, she brought his palm toward her mouth, the smell of his blood causing her fangs and veins to appear at once.

She sunk her teeth into his flesh.

And made some sort of noise that was a cross between a sigh and a moan.

Her eyes turned crimson and fluttered shut as she got into it, letting the bloodlust take her over completely. It felt like she was soaring and exploding all at once. He tasted so good, and best of all, it was impossible for her to drain him; she could just keep going until she was satiated. With that thought in mind, she leaned into his body more, readjusted her hold on his hand, and let herself revel in the moment.

Jim, for one, was positive that in his many centuries on this planet, he had never been as aroused as he was right now. Blood-sharing with another vampire was something that had never worked out for him; he usually had the other parties killed before they could get to him. But Molly… She could suck him dry any day, any way she wanted.

She leaned a little more, the indulgence and the hormones and the endorphins evidently taking their toll on her stability, and Jim—feeling all those things, as well—stepped back a bit, let her vamp strength push him until his back collided with the wall. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, the eternally soft texture of her hair lulling him even further into his tranquil haze.

He could feel how dilated his pupils were, growing more and more so by the second with her breathy little moans and sighs as her fangs, her tongue worked over his skin. He closed his eyes and sighed himself, wrapping his free arm around her back, keeping her upright, pulling her closer.

He was painfully hard.

He needed to fuck her right this very instant.

Later, he promised himself. First they had to see if this worked. If it did, their Sherlock problem was solved. If it didn’t, Jim would come up with twenty other reasons they had to do this on the regular.


The first time Molly accompanied him to a client meetup was the definition of a disaster.

It really shouldn’t have been; York vampires had a reputation for being laid back druggies. Every exchange Jim had had with them up until that day had been smooth sailing. They paid well, gave up territories in exchange for contraband on command…

But then, Jim had never encountered a pack of York vampires with their humanity switched off.

He couldn’t even say what exactly had happened. One moment he was in negotiations with the group’s leader; the next, the rowdiest of the bunch lunged at Molly. And then all hell broke loose.

Hell breaking loose consisted of the other vampires creating makeshift weapons—breaking off chunks of wooden crates, snatching up stray tools—and attacking Molly from all angles. She was lying motionless on the floor, Sebastian staking her attackers left and right, when Jim ripped the head off the vampire who had started it all. He scooped up Molly’s injured body, ordered his second in command to slaughter every single Yorkie in the damned warehouse, and vamp-sped out to the car. Gabriel, another one of Jim’s employees, took over Sebastian’s duty as chauffeur and zipped out onto the carriageway.

Molly was coughing up blood, her head in Jim’s lap, her wounded form spread across the backseat. And Jim… Well. Jim was on the verge of losing his mind for the second time in his life.

“Drink,” he commanded, not bothering to pull up his sleeve this time. There was hardly a point; his suit was already stained with blood, not to mention his precious Westwood was the least of his concerns right now. He just bit and urged his hand toward Molly’s face. “Now.”

She hurt all over but still managed a weak smile. “It doesn’t work like that anymore, remember? No more sire bond. I do what I want.”

Molly.” Jim was grinding his teeth together so hard it was painful. “Sire bond or no sire bond, it was my blood that turned you, so it is my blood that can heal you.” Heal, amongst other things, he didn’t add under the circumstances. “You will drink right now or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” she teased. He would never hurt her; the whole purpose of this argument was that he wanted her to heal. However, seeing the rage in his eyes, she relented and accepted his palm. She sunk her fangs into him and immediately felt relief wash over her as she sucked down his blood. The healing properties activated, righting her spine and closing up the significant amount of stab wounds she’d sustained to her shoulder, across her abdomen, and down her legs.

She released his hand and collapsed into his lap, feeling sated and restored. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Normally he felt all the good things when she drank from him, but not today. Jim remained tense and silent for several moments, jaw set, daylight ring clanging off the window as he absentmindedly tapped the back of his hand against the glass. She needed more combat training with Sebastian, loads more combat training. His top hunter had a busy schedule in the upcoming weeks. Jim made a mental note to cancel everything or reassign it all to someone else.

At last he worked up the strength to evenly ask, “All your wounds gone?”

“Mhm. Those lot were nasty, weren’t they? At least they missed my tattoo.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. “You have a tattoo?” Sure, Molly was stronger and wilder now, but if she had gotten a tattoo in the past two months, he’d have known about it. And—he highly doubted she’d gotten a tattoo in her former life.

“Sure do. Got it a few years back on my birthday. It’s a little skull, super cute.”

Jim laughed derisively. He was still riled up from the significant… heightened emotions her first physical altercation with a pack of clients gone rogue had inspired, and she was the only one around to bear the brunt of his attitude. “I’ve never seen it.”

Molly picked herself up and leaned in close so her lips just ghosted the shell of his ear. “That’s because you’ve only seen me clothed.” Her voice was low and seductive, and a fresh wave of pride washed over him at how well she’d learned to hold her own, not just against Sherlock but against him.

He tipped his head toward hers; their breaths mingled together in the close proximity. There had been this something growing between them for months now, and neither of them had acted on it outside of those moments where he shared his blood with her. But now… She’d been so still on that dirty warehouse floor, been stabbed so many times… For a moment, he'd really thought…

They closed the nearly nonexistent space between them and kissed.

It was the gentlest Jim had ever been with anyone. Molly could handle rough, and he fully intended to give her rough over and over again later, but right now… She had just survived her first attack, and—fuck it—he didn’t want this moment to be raunchy. His little vampire had moaned and writhed against him upwards of a dozen times as she drank his blood and gave him unimaginable hard-ons, but this was their first romantic touch and Jim wanted it to be an accurate representation of whatever the fuck it was she was doing to his heart.

They eventually stopped kissing, but they hardly moved apart. Molly traced cold fingertips over his jawline and gave him the most radiant smile he had ever seen in his all his centuries on Earth.

Composure, Moriarty! You’re a consulting vampire criminal mastermind, remember?

Jim licked his lips and said softly, “Let’s change that, shall we?”


 “I want you to taste me.”

They were in his bed (which was really their bed now), Jim still in his suit, Molly in nothing but her new bra and panties set. It had been a successful day of sewing doubt into the minds of those who loved Sherlock Holmes, followed by a lovely dinner at Molly’s favorite restaurant. Molly had stripped for bed the moment they arrived home. The consulting vampire criminal, on the other hand, wasn't quite ready to call it a night. He was still tapping away on his phone, finishing up a few final notes for next week's plans, when his vampire queen made her endearing request.

Jim placed his phone on his night stand then turned toward his girlfriend and feigned confusion. “But I have, my darling. And you.” He pecked her on the lips. “Are.” Peck. “Delicious.” Peck.

Molly giggled, the sound much more confident than it had been not a year ago. “I meant…” She climbed into his lap and twined her arms around his neck. “I want you to drink from me. I’ve been a vampire for four months, and I’ve drank from you plenty of times, but you’ve never drank from me.” She pouted adorably. “Why is that? Afraid my blood won’t taste as good as my cunt?”

Jim, once a master of masking any and all emotional reactions, felt his veins prickle on his face the same time his eyes turned red. This woman so freely using dirty words would bring about his second death. “Oh, now I know that’s impossible,” he said, his voice rough. He reached between their ever-aroused bodies and cupped her core through her lace knickers. He relished the gasp that one earned him, and kept his eyes trained on her face as he circled her clit through the flimsy fabric. “I’m a very busy man, baby. If your blood is as sweet as that pretty little pussy of yours, I may never leave this bed again.”

Molly whimpered and ground herself against his hand. “Jim, please.”

“Now the question is…” He vamp-flipped them over so she was lying down and his body was pinning hers. He worked his knee against her core, and she immediately opened up her legs for him. He could hear her heart hammering with anticipation, could see exactly where it was beating in her neck. He placed an open-mouthed kiss directly on top of her pulse point, sucked on it, made it throb like crazy. Locking eyes with her, he murmured against her skin, “Should I tie you up and make you take it, or are you going to be a good little vampire and let Daddy have his way with you?”

Molly moaned in earnest now, veins flashing, eyes vamping into blood red territory. “Tie me up.” Her voice cracked and she suddenly realized she felt dehydrated. “Please. Take what you want from me.”

Jim licked his lips and chuckled darkly. He tilted his head and slowly, pointedly traced her erratic pulse point with the tip of his tongue. Molly was certain this gesture set her insides ablaze. “As you wi~sh.”

He sat back on his heels and took his time loosening the knot of his favorite skull tie, letting her anticipation build. He could smell her desire, and he fought to keep his veins at bay. When he finally slipped his tie free, he wrapped the cloth around her wrists and bound them to the headboard. Then he pulled back to observe his handiwork: Molly, spread out on his bed, wearing nothing but her lacey pink lingerie, vulnerable and wet and aching. This was going to be fun.

Unconsciously licking his lips again, he dragged his rough hands down her body with the devotion of a man worshipping his goddess. “Look at that…” he murmured, watching the way her hips jerked when he caressed the insides of her legs. A wicked smirk covered his face and he sighed in an entirely self-satisfied manner.

“What?” she deigned to ask, her lovely chest heaving as she watched him drink her in—unfortunately for her, not yet literally.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “Just decided where I’m drinking from.”

She blinked up at him through her long fluttery lashes. “I-It all tastes the same.” She sounded confused.

Jim released her ankles and moved his hands up to her breasts. He began kneading them through her bra, pinching her nipples hard through the fabric then soothing them with his thumbs. “Does it?”

Molly sighed as he leaned down to lick the curve of her breast. “Always does for me.” While she usually drank from his palm for convenience, he had offered her his neck a time or two. She'd never noticed a difference.

He pulled down one cup of her bra and sucked her stiff nipple into his mouth. She squirmed in her bonds, doing her best to grind the lower half of her body up into his. He released her breast with a pop! and looked up at her innocently.

“This time’ll be different,” he promised, pulling her bra all the way down. With the tip of his finger, he absently circled her other nipple, feeling it harden beneath his teasing ministrations. “Though to tell you the truth, Molly, it wasn’t my experience I was concerned with.”

She pondered that in silence as he continued his torturous assault on her body. He didn’t leave one bit of her untouched, and by the time he finally got to her bikini line and pushed the crotch of her knickers to the side, she was a sweaty, desperate mess.

“Look at that gorgeous cunt dripping,” he almost whispered reverently. He dragged one finger through her arousal and she keened, she wanted it so badly. But instead of penetrating her, he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked. They moaned together. “That all for me?”

“Ye-es, all for you,” she promised, unable to keep still. “Jim, please.”

“All in due time,” he responded nonchalantly. And then, as though he hadn’t seen it plenty of times before, “You have a vvvery nice tattoo.” He traced the outline of the skull on her upper inner thigh with his clean index finger, though it didn’t stay clean for long. He tsked and shook his head. “So~meone’s drenched her thighs. Naughty, naughty.”

Molly twisted and turned underneath him. Her wrists chaffed against his tie, so desperate was she to break free and make him do something, anything. She squealed in frustration.

“There, there,” he chastised, slicking up his finger in her folds once more. “Patience, my dear.”

And finally, meeting absolutely no resistance at all, he slipped his finger inside her.

Molly cried out with relief, veins crackling over her face, eyes turning blood red again as he began to fingerfuck her. She moved her hips in time with his thrusts, wanting more but knowing she was currently a beggar and thus in no position to be a chooser.

Jim tweaked each of her nipples some more, watching the rosy peaks tighten as much as physically possible beneath his touch.

“Now?” she pleaded.

“Now what?” He slipped another finger inside her and picked up the pace. A delectable flush bloomed across her chest, the apples of her cheeks. She wanted it so bad, and Jim couldn’t wait to give it to her.

“Jiiim!” Molly squealed. She was a woman starved: she was thrashing around, her wrists red and sweaty, her arousal almost unbearable. “I thought you were going to drink from me!”

“I am, my dear.” He pushed in a third finger and fucked her hard, trying not to come himself at the way she threw her head back, the sight of her breasts bouncing, the feel of her slick channel clenching around him. “Just a little more…”

“A little more wha—”

He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard.

A broken scream tore its way out of his girlfriend. The moment her orgasm started, he moved his mouth to her inner thigh, right on top of that kinky little skull tattoo, and sunk his fangs in.

The sounds Molly made were not human. She arched so far off the bed she imagined she’d be feeling it in the morning, but right now, there was no bad pain. There was only pleasure, ecstasy, and the erotic pain of Jim puncturing her at such a sensitive spot. Her body shook of its own accord and she inadvertently yanked her hands free of their bonds. She dug her fingers into her boyfriend’s hair and held him in place as he drank from her as though she was life-giving water.

It was like being doubly fucked: his fingers and his fangs buried inside her all at once, her come coating his still-moving digits, her blood flowing freely into his mouth. Jim was so sexy when he fed in general, but right now he was fucking killing her. Any time he displayed earnest want was a treat, but this... Molly would remember this for the rest of her eternal existence.

The first thing Jim was aware of was not her fingers in his hair, but the second scream that ripped its way out of her. She was so euphoric it took her a moment to recover her voice, but when she did, she cried out so loudly it rattled the windows.

Jim was fucking drowning in pleasure. It was always captivating to watch his Mollikins come, and it was magnificent to watch her grow aroused from drinking his blood. But this? Drinking from her while she was coming? He’d outdone himself. She was glorious, every little thing about her. From the way her small frame shook with the intensity of it all to the way her blood literally tasted like sex, Jim couldn’t recall a euphoria that came anywhere near close to this.

When he’d had his (very temporary) fill, he retracted his fangs and lathed the wound with his tongue.

Molly was shaking all over, laughing deliriously, like she was high and never coming down. “Oh my GOD,” she declared.

Jim licked the last of her blood from his lips and re-centered himself. He easily slipped his fingers out of her and reached his arm up the length of her body. “Clean your mess, kitten. Daddy can’t do all the work.”

Molly complied, accepting his soaked digits and lazily sucking her come off them. Her eyelids were drooping shut, and she only gave a small jolt when she registered Jim’s tongue softly lapping at her cunt. She wanted to thank him for being gentle, wanted to thank him for making her so overly sensitive in the first place, but all she could manage was a slurred, blissful, “Thanks.”

Jim hummed and smacked his lips as he finished eating her out. “I was right, you know.”

“Hmm?” If she’d felt dehydrated before, she was really in need of a drink now. She’d be sure to feed later, but right now, her eyes were sealed shut of their own volition. She needed to nap for a year. Or six.

He rested his head on her stomach and closed his eyes. “So fucked. Never leaving this bed.”

Molly laughed through her nose. “You haven’t come yet.”

“Later.” He tipped his head and placed a soft kiss to her rib cage. “When you can give me your very best performance.”

She smiled with what little consciousness she had left. “I ruined your tie.”

“Seb’ll buy me a new one.”

“Mm.”

“Rest, darling girl. You’ll need it for later.”

And feeling delightfully sated, wrung out, and complete, she obeyed.