Darcy could smell him as soon as he walked in the door. He smelled of something. Not Old Spice or Calvin Klein. Not even coffee or alcohol, like just about every other schmuck in the bar. It was something else. Something not artificial, but not altogether human either. It was like human, but more. Stronger. Better. Superhuman. She could smell it - not on him - in him from all the way across the room. She needed it. It was against the rules to take someone who’d be missed. You were supposed to predate the weak, not those in their prime. And it wasn’t like there was a shortage on runaways and down-and-outs in New York. So really, she ought to leave him be. Him and his friends, all jocular and animated and alive. But there was only so much one could take the tainted taste of junkie before something a bit fresher was required. And, boy, did this guy smell like just the thing. Darcy’d never smelled anything like it. She had to get closer.
She wasn’t subtle about staring at him, and his friends all started elbowing him and nodding in her direction. He seemed a little uncertain so, okay, maybe she’d have to tone it down a bit before reeling him in. Sultry bedroom eyes. Lick lips, not teeth. Swing the hips when walking up to the bar, glance over the shoulder. Wait.
“Uh, hi,” came a call on her right, “I’m Steve. Can I buy you a drink?”
Bingo. There was still a little hesitation there, and Darcy could see his group of friends eyeing them from their table. One of his buddies smelled a little of the same thing as Steve, but it was nothing like the pristine A-positive that was overwhelming her senses. It was the best blood she’d smelled in forever. It was the best fuel in the world and she had to have it. Had to taste it, feel it. But she shouldn’t.
“Sure thing, Steve. I’m Darcy,” she said, biting her lips and running her eyes over him, “Are you and your friends celebrating something?”
“Uh, well, sort of. We… we finished this big project at work, felt like letting off a little steam, you know?” Steve kept going, lying his ass off. Why, she wasn’t sure but she really didn’t care. Superhuman Steve was talking to her and giving her eyes and that was all she needed. All going according to plan, she’d have her hands on him within the hour. It might be against the rules to drink him, but there was nothing against fucking the poor bastard. Oh, to have her hands on his pulse, to feel that precious liquid thumping underneath her. She’d taste what she could of a few other bodily fluids and have to be satisfied with that.
She brought herself closer in to Steve and looked up at him through lidded eyes, “Steve, do you want to dance?”
She saw fear and doubt flash through his expression, poor baby. Before he could answer, she grabbed his collar and yanked him away from the bar, “Let’s dance.”
Darcy never let Steve more than a few inches away from her, their chests pressed together as they moved to what passed for music. Steve’s friends egged him on, taking pictures and shouting encouragement but they didn’t feature in Darcy’s field of vision. After sufficient swaying and caressing, she put her hand on the back of Steve’s neck - sweet fuck, his pulse - and pulled him down for a kiss with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer through a stained-glass window. When Steve’s arms encircled her waist and his mouth opened, Darcy thought she might burst. That extra something - like water in the desert - was so fucking close. Just a tiny little barrier lay between her and the taste of him. She could just bite a little bit, a teeny tiny bit.
Darcy wrenched herself away from Steve’s lips and fixed him with a hungry gaze. Steve’s chest heaved with breathlessness and he met her eyes with dumbfounded lust.
“I want you,” Darcy rasped out, “let’s get out of here.”
“My place is just a few blocks away… No roommates, no pesky pets. No strings.”
As she walked them both towards the exit, Steve glanced back at his friends, making faux helpless gestures at her and grinning. She couldn’t risk going anywhere but her own apartment. She hadn’t had nearly enough blood to be day-walking. If she got carried away and held onto Steve too long, it was easier to deal with on her own turf. But she wasn’t planning on anything other than a good bang. She wasn’t going to drink him. She just needed a night with someone vibrant, someone lively. Out on the streets - away from the clustered, mingling human scents - Steve smelled even better, undiluted. Darcy was glad she’d worn the high-heeled boots, Steve was far taller than her. It made him all the more tempting, an extra pint of whatever rocket fuel he was running on.
The short walk to her place was a blur of hot hands and wet kisses, culminating in Steve carrying her up the steps with Darcy’s legs clinging around his hips. Even as his pulse quickened, there was no stuttering of the flow of blood. No jarring where an artery thickened, no arrhythmia. He was a well-oiled machine, in perfect working order. What a pity she couldn’t just sip a little. What a pity she couldn’t devour him whole.
She pulled him into her apartment, making a direct line for the bedroom while pulling and tugging at clothes. There was firm, strong muscle under his shirt, an added bonus to the beautiful smell of optimal, living man. Steve looked around dazedly, while Darcy buried her nose in the hollow where his neck and shoulder met and breathed deep. Her apartment wasn’t exactly discreet. Shutters instead of curtains, dark shades on every lamp, and a predilection for a certain species of highly clichéd flying mammal.
“You like bats, huh?” Steve asked as she yanked him impatiently to her bedroom.
“Bats are cute.”
“I bet you’re a riot at Halloween,” he teased, finally getting around to removing Darcy’s top.
“You have no idea,” she said, kicking her bedroom door shut and shoving Steve down onto the bed. He put large, warms hands around her hips and onto her ass and he sucked at her nipple through the lace of her bra. The arteries and veins filled with powerful, intoxicating blood seemed to envelope her. She could just tilt his head and have all of it to herself, coat herself in it. It would be so easy. It was right there. She bent down and mouthed at the sinew in his neck. So close, so rich.
“Darcy?” Steve’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. He was pawing at the button to her leather pants and looking up reverently at her with blown pupils, “do you have a condom?”
“It’s okay, I have an implant,” Darcy breathed. It wasn’t totally a lie. The living Darcy Lewis had had one, which still resided in the dead Darcy Lewis. It didn’t do anything anymore, but she was dead so there wasn’t much to prevent.
“... I’m clean,” he breathed, and he wasn’t kidding. Clean was the word, in every sense of it. Other people often had too much sugar, or not enough, too much fat, iron deficiencies and illnesses that made their blood smell and taste used. But Steve was clean. He was like purified water. His blood sang.
Darcy stripped out of the remainder of her clothes and, once Steve was out of his, straddled him back over the bed. He sat up once or twice, vying for the position on top but she grasped his hair and pushed him back down. He had to be under her, she had to feel his blood pumping beneath her. She kissed roughly down his chest, feeling electric lust flash through both of them when she bit softly on his nipple. Incisors only. No canines. Canines would break what little will power she possessed. But if she couldn’t have blood, she’d have the next best thing.
She shimmied lower to sit over his legs - femoral artery - and dragged her mouth over his abs, skirting her front teeth across the muscle, until she reached his cock, hot and firm and full of blood. Steve let out hissed breaths as she kissed the head and gently ran the tip of her tongue along the slit. His member twitched when she took the head into her mouth and Darcy couldn’t contain a hum of satisfaction at feeling the blood rushing against her tongue, just beneath the surface of thin, sensitive skin. She took him in deeper, hitting the back of her throat, and sucked hard as if it would bring the blood closer. She made sure to keep her teeth to herself, even other vampires would make fun of her for biting a guy’s dick. The gasping noises coming from the top of the bed, as well as the shuddering thighs and swelling cock, told her he was close indeed. A few more swirls of the tongue and her mouth was filled with cum. It wasn’t nearly the same as blood. No matter what else you tasted there was always that salty tang, but it was fluid - life-giving fluid - so it would have to do.
She let his still hard cock out of her mouth with a pop as Steve let out the last of the strangled gasps and fiddled with her hair.
“Mmm, don’t let me down Steve,” she purred, bringing herself back to sit over his hips, her slick sex aligning over his cock, “you can go for round two, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Steve breathed out, nodding and with sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead. He ran his hands in over her thighs towards her throbbing pussy and licked his lips, “you want me to…?”
“Tempting,” she said, “but you’re not going anywhere.”
She batted his hands away and held them loosely above his head. She reached down to line his cock up with her entrance and raised her hips.
“You’re still okay with this?” Steve asked, the tension in his thighs betraying his desire to thrust up into her.
Darcy grinned ferally and slid down his length. He made her feel full and she wasted no time in rocking her hips, the head of his cock hitting her cervix in a wondrous rhythm. Steve thrust up from beneath her, his hands squeezing her legs. She could feel his blood pounding through him, every pulse point humming and rushing with gorgeous, purified, gold-star blood. This was never going to be enough. Just fucking him could never satisfy her.
With a few more thrusts she felt every muscle in her abdomen contract and she snapped. She couldn’t take it. She leaned down to Steve’s exposed jugular and bit hard. Blood burst into her mouth, spraying down her throat. It was like tasting lightning. She barely registered Steve’s gasps - not entirely pleasure nor pain - and his hands gripping her hips tight. He thrust up into her, as if not even realising what was happening to him, and came. Even as he stilled, she drank. She had to have all of it. Whatever Steve was running on was like oxygen and energy and Darcy kept her mouth pressed to his veins. Not a single drop was allowed to escape.
With a final swallow she felt the last twitches subside, both in Steve’s body and her cunt. She clung to his still shoulders and failed to fight the sinking sensation calling her to sleep. She rolled off and flopped down beside him, licking her lips to catch the last trickles but letting his cum drip out of her and onto the sheets. She felt so full and warm and heavy. If she could just close her eyes for five minutes…
Darcy woke disgustingly early - just past lunchtime - to bright, blazing sunshine poking through the shutters. It didn’t burn her, the gold-dust she’d just sucked out of Steve Rogers boosting her immunity. She sighed as she remembered the poor body she’d left lying next to her. She’d have to call Phil or Nick to help clean up properly. Steve’s friends would eventually report him missing and would remember her as the person he’d gone home with. Rigor would have set in too, so she’d need help even getting him out of the apartment. What a pain in the ass. She braced herself to look at him, waking up next to corpses was never fun. But when Darcy rolled over expecting Steve’s stiff, blue countenance staring lifelessly back at her, she found nothing but a recently vacated bed. Sitting up, she picked up Steve’s voice from the kitchen talking away like she hadn’t just sucked the life out of him. Literally. She flung the covers back and darted through to the kitchen where she saw Steve, large as life, talking into a cell phone.
“I’m telling you, Bucky, she drew blood,” he said, inspecting the bite mark on his neck in the reflection in the microwave. There was a lot more bruising than she was used to, but that hardly mattered compared to the fact that Steve was quite clearly not dead.
She did drink him. She felt like she had. Darcy felt strong and sturdy, her skin felt healthier, her reflexes felt sharper. And yet, here he was, waltzing around in his underwear and yammering on the phone to his friend. He turned and saw her standing in the doorway and quickly hung up on this Bucky guy.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, “uh… afternoon.”
“Hi,” Darcy replied, a tinge of curiosity seeping into her voice. She tentatively stepped closer to him at the counter. He still smelled of that fantastic variety of human, the bright and enticing scent was faded now but still there. She’d drained all that glorious blood out of him and his body just… made more? That was way too good to be true. It was an impossible fantasy for a vampire to find someone this delicious, this fortifying, who just replenished themselves, who didn’t die. She reached for a mug and the coffee he’d brewed, “how… how are you?”
“I’m pretty good, you?”
“I’m… yeah, I’m good,” she paused to sip the strong coffee, “look, I’m sorry if I was kinda… rough last night. I didn’t mean to just throw that at you.”
“It’s okay. I got pretty into it,” Steve shrugged, “But it’s my turn on top next time, right?”
Darcy grinned at him over the rim of her mug, practically salivating at the thought of next time.