Bloodflower

BY : megadeth425
Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 2561
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon and make no money from this story.


Background time. This is inspired by a snippet from Story Time, a previous story of mine, that I decided to expand upon. All you need to know is that this is a story in-universe, and written by Shauntal. So basically, a story within a story. Title is taken from a Draconian song. And on an amusing note, the captcha for uploading this included "sangue".

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On most nights, Caitlin would have slept like a baby, tidily spread out on her lavish canopy bed in undisturbed stillness. That night, though she could scarcely close her eyes without seeing them. The eyes. Powder blue and more radiant than anything the natural world could conceive of. Each times her eyes slipped shut, they peered into her soul and shook her frightfully. She had woken up from nightmares more serene than the memory of his gaze.

Night. It was nighttime, she realized, and terror seized her. She slept so much that night was something she had almost forgotten existed, save for the early winter darkness. There was too much life for it to be called night then, though. Where she lay now, the world was unmoving and silent, empty night all around her with the only semblance of company the shifting, sinister shadows all about her room. She knew better than to be afraid; she was an adult, and a smart one at that. Still, something irrational bit at her subconscious, and she pulled the blankets over the lower half of her face as her eyes darted through the translucent veil of her bed's white curtains at the room around her. Slight creaks and the constant, fluid motions of shadows put her at great unease as she frantically reached for the lamp on the bedside table.

Click.

The darkness remained.

It had been so long since she was even awake at night, since it was midsummer and the sun remained up through all her waking hours, that the filament had since deteriorated down to nothing. Still, she was alone and bathed in darkness.

Or so she thought.

The shadows' movement had been regular up until that point. When a new shadow made itself immediately know on the floor, the others grew eerily still, and Caitlin's heart sped up. The silence hadn't been literal; there was always the ambient noise of outside, of plant and animal life outside, of the ever-present electric hum that seemed a guarantee. Now, though, she found true silence, only the sound of her panicked breaths telling her she hadn't gone deaf. Then, just as the realization of utter silence set in, a cackling rattled her. Low, subtle laughter that could well have been her mind twisting anything, but felt too sinister to be her imagination.

"Who's there?" she shouted, scampering up her bed so her back lay flush against the headboard, her head snapping left and right in hopes of catching whatever the hell was making that sound.

Then, the eyes struck her again. This time, though, she didn't close hers. Through the opaque sheet, two brilliantly radiant blue eyes pinned her down, making her still. Her breath grew faster, heart racing as everything in her told her to run, to scream. But she didn't. The eyes told her to stay, to obey, and even as hands pushed the curtain aside, she sat still, in the grip of terror.

“You have come for me,” she said with all the false courage she could, though it wasn't enough to keep her voice from shaking.

A mouth turned upward in a sly grin. “You've expected me,” crooned a basso voice, strangely accented, and dripping with smug self-satisfaction. The most unsettling part of it was just how much it eased her panicked body. “But,” the voice said, pausing a moment, “You don't know what I am, or why am I here.”

The source of the voice pushed forward through the hole of the curtain, and with her eyes finally adjusting to the dark, Caitlin could make out the person perfectly. Dark blue hair strangely styled so that the edges perked up like bat's ears. A strong face that was undoubtedly handsome, if a little abnormally so. A mouth curved into an eternal grin with two small, white protrusions resting on his bottom lip.

“Grimsley,” she gasped.

With the structure of Unova's Elite Four, there was little forced interaction between the various members. Caitlin kept to herself, too sleepy and determined to keep herself unattached to care. There had been a fundraiser that afternoon, though, and through it all, the dark-type trainer seemed to be watching her. Something was off about him, and considering he had broken into her room and now worked his way into her bed, “off” was putting it lightly.

His eyes were so radiant that they seemed to bring light, casting a pale blue sheen on her blanket as he moved closer to her. “Correct,” he said, and the uncomfortable soothing quality of it made her relax a little more. “But that is who I am. Not the what. Or the why. Try again, my lovely.”

“I am not your lovely,” she said meekly, and he was only inches from her feet at that point, still drawing closer. Each step made her more nervous, but paradoxically less resistant to his advance. She didn't kick at him, or run, or scream. Merely, she sat with bated breath and waited for him to reach her.

His smile curved for a moment into a fake frown, “Not yet. But then, we've barely gotten started.” He reached out a long arm and pulled the blanket from her lithe form to reveal her in her nightgown, pink and reaching to her knees. “And when we truly begin, I bet that you will change your mind.”

She shook her head, or at least tried to. Her neck refused to budge, and her eyes refused to leave his face; when they weren't gazing into his bright blues, they were tracing the line of his jaw or remarking on his slim nose. “You bet?” she quavered. “This isn't a-a game.”

“Oh, but it is. Everything is. A game of chance, whether apparent or not. Even a sure bet, guaranteed to come up with your number, is a game.” His face was now inches from hers, and she had to restrain herself to keep from making a sound as her entire body trembled. “In fact, the very best games are the ones so easily rigged to come up your way every time. And this," he ran a hand along her face and she shuddered against him, “Is an easy game to rig.”

“W-what are you?” she asked, trying desperately to move her uncooperative hand and swat away his, but it refused to move. His eyes were heavy on her now, and with his touch, she just melted where she sat.

His upper lip curled upward, baring his teeth to her. They were white, so white they may very well have sparkled in stronger light. What caught her eye though, were his canines, longer than she had ever seen on someone, with sharp points that made her heart race even as his soothing touch grew stronger. “You know what I am, psychic. You know very well what I am, and that I am not here for pleasantries.”

“What are you here for?” Her eyes narrowed in her best attempt at looking intimidating, but his hand clasped hers and her poker face shattered, a gasp pushing its way from her soft pink lips.

“To taste of a beauty as stunning as yours, of course. To make it eternally mine to adore, to marvel,” he paused for a second to kiss at her forehead and let out another laugh, “To feast on in ecstasy for all of eternity.”

She was silent, unable to move and, increasingly, unable to keep her wits about her. When his lips pressed her forehead, a sudden tingle ran across her body and she found herself totally unable to resist it. “You're cheating,” she managed to whisper as his other hand ran up her arm.

“I already told you that,” he purred. “This game is rigged in my favour. I play to win.” His mouth trailed down her to her cheek where he planted another kiss. “And my prize is you.” His tongue brushed her skin, dragging the short distance to her mouth as his lips pressed to hers.



The cheating became most pronounced then, as with his deep kiss came a sudden flow of warmth through her. What did it matter what she wanted when he imposed his will upon her forcefully enough to make it her will? Even with her psychic potential, she was powerless to stop him from bending her mind into submission. His cold hands and nimble fingers ran along her knees, dragging the hem of her dress along her thighs as his fingers pushed into the milky flesh. She may have been deprived of sunlight and pale, but it was nothing compared to his ghastly, pallid skin tone, which made her look tanned by comparison.

“Do you know now what I am?” he asked mockingly, the tip of his nose resting on hers and his lips as close to hers as they could be without actually making contact. “I believe you do, and if not, then you soon will.” Again, he lifted his upper lip from his teeth, aware she couldn't see it, but instead to kiss her again.



She remembered him being clothed, which made it all the more unsettling when something warm and solid pressed to her thigh, something unambiguously male. The thought of how he had done that when he seemed to be wearing pants was only a brief one, though, as his lips left hers and trailed downward. “Delicious,” she heard him whisper in a voice that seemed to carry and echo through the room, coming back to her after a second and resonating. A deep breath inward through his nostrils made her made slip downward so that she again rested her head on the pillow, and his body had already fallen into position.

“Vampire,” she gasped as his hands clasped her thigh and her hip, and the incoming intrusion was scarcely a surprise. Just as everything else Grimsley had done, it was slow and patient. His length eased into her carefully, even as his breath quickened with audible hunger. His teeth dragged for maybe a quarter of an inch along her jaw before the kisses resumed. A satisfied purr of confirmation rang out, and somehow, that made her body ease up. Whether it was his unwelcome intrusion upon her mind or a deep longing for another's touch, another's love, was a deep and confusing subject that had no place at this time. Such a refined man, maybe she saw some of Darach in him. Or perhaps, within his deep, piercing gaze, that was merely what he wanted her to think.

No matter what the intention or the trickery, she took in a deep breath and let him enter her to the hilt. The result was profound and immediate, sending a sprawling cry from her lips as her side lifted and pushed against him, his hand gently keeping her in place as though she weren't trying. He was inside of her, his presence making itself very known as her slick inner walls held tightly to the large intrusion. Again, his lips smacked against her skin, his breath both warm and cold as it blew on her neck.

Nothing she had ever felt was more lamentable than when he drew his body back and withdrew from her. She whimpered and groaned a little, her legs trying to gain the energy to lock into his and keep him there, but they fell victim to the same pseudo-paralysis as everything else in her body. By contrast, when he pushed back in to her, rattling the body with the force of his push and sending her entire being into pleasure, she had never felt so fulfilled. She was still dimly aware of his tricks and meddling, but it was all silent in the face of sudden, overwhelming need.

“Need,” the word echoed in her mind as another push sent ripples of sensation through her body, even making her fingertips tingle. Her head pushed back against the pillow as again, it repeated. “Need. Need him.” The result was that her milky, moonlit neck lay exposed to his mouth as his lips still paid her tribute, teeth just grazing her soft flesh. “Off yourself to him. Love him.”

"Grimsley,” the Elite Four's pampered princess shuddered as the aristocrat's mouth opened with hunger. Another thrust inside of Caitlin, and his lips pressed to her bared, alabaster neck. He could feel her throat tighten through the flesh, even feel the sharp breath she drew in. So deep inside of her, the girl enraptured and willing to give him her body in any way he so asked, she was easy prey. The teeth glanced her flesh, letting a single drop of scarlet heroin drip onto his tongue, and like a shark, that single drop was all it took to surrender his body and his will to the demon within.

When next he kissed her, when next he pushed into her aching, hungry warmth, it was to truly feast. His teeth slipped so easily into her neck that it seemed almost painless. Certainly, on the psychic high she was and with the man still moving inside her with passion and intensity that could only have been superhuman, there was no pain. In fact, no moment, no solitary experience, no facet of life, had been quite as incredible as when he fed upon her. Something intense and narcotic coursed through her veins, and every last nerve burst into brilliant white fire. Reality faded and every ounce of energy and life slipped out of her, a thousand voices whispering temptations that clouded each other and became an impenetrable wall of sound that told her she was right to give in.

Release was sudden and intense, somehow rising up and coursing through her already pleasure-overloaded body. Her body couldn't even tremble as Grimsley sucked every last drop of dark red nectar, so she merely lay there as all that was came to be still, leaving her on the verge of existence, on the verge of pleasures so insurmountable her body couldn't even handle it all, for what seemed like forever.

"Forever," he rasped. "My bride. Forever."



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