Bitter Bites

Bitter Bites by Harper Sanchez

"Are you Mark's friend... Sam?"

He smiled lazily. "Yeah. You know Mark?"

She gave a drunken giggle. "We have a few classes together. He told me he was bringing his friend to my party."

Sam took a swig out of his ubiquitous red solo cup. "You must be Emma, then." He resisted the urge to hold out his hand for a shake, tucking it into his jeans pocket instead.

"At your service." She managed a clumsy flourish and then proceeded to knock back a large portion of the mysterious purple drink in her cup. "Even though you broke the rules. You're not wearing a costume." She eyed him judgmentally over the rim of her drink.

It took him a moment to connect the dots, trying on a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, I'm not really into holidays so I don't do the dress up thing." He shrugged, his green hazel eyes casting down and then trekking back up her body. She was dressed entirely in tight black clothing with tall shiny black boots and whiskers - now smudged - drawn on her full cheeks. She looked vaguely like a dominatrix dressed as a cat.

Emma smiled at him anyway, her full cheeks flushed. "Ok, that's fair. You look fine anyway." Her glassy brown eyes widened, a hand half lifting to her mouth before she turned away so quickly he thought she might topple.

"Did you want something else to drink?" She retreated a few steps into the kitchen before he could figure out what to say.

He stilled, the edges of his smile suddenly sharpening into something else. "I would love that," he said softly, the din of the party drowning it out.

She popped her head back out of the kitchen, her embarrassment seemingly faded. "Did you say anything? I have Jungle Juice... and some more Jungle Juice. That ok?"

"Yeah, it's fine." His eyes lingered on her lips and then drifted down to her neck. "Hey, you want to play flip cup?"

Under the fluorescent lights of Emma's tiny kitchen, next to the bucket of Jungle Juice, the beginnings of a friendship took shape. Sam had found that Emma was refreshingly honest even without the alcohol; it gave him the freedom to be that much closer to the truth of himself with someone other than Leo. In a single afternoon he learned that she was the middle child of three girls, her favorite color was blue, she'd only recently been to her first college football game, and she was heavily into THON fundraising. Her dirtiest secret was she didn't like animals - he thought that was particularly endearing, not having the heart to tell her she didn't know what a dirty secret was.

In return, he'd told her his family had been large and that he was the second youngest, but it had been a long time since he'd seen any of them. He told her the truth, that his favorite color was honey-gold but that he felt awkward saying so. Instead he would lie and tell everyone green when asked. However, he didn't tell her his dirtiest secret, choosing to respond in kind by telling her that he didn't like the holidays - at all, none, zero, zilch. Emma seemed to find that almost alien.

Emma honed the yearning inside Sam's gut to a wistful point. He wanted to taste her. ....

....

"Emma, try this, it's delicious," Sam shouted over the music as he passed her his minty green concoction. He watched with delight as her eyes widened with pleasure.

"It's so good." She drew out her 'so' enthusiastically, leaning close so he'd hear her.

"I told you. But it's mine. You can't have it. Although, I suppose, maybe I'll buy you one," his tone nonchalant.

She laughed brassily. "Well, fuck you too. I don't need your hand outs!" She pushed away from the table but he stood up in a blink, suddenly grinning down at her. He wasn't particularly tall at 5'9" but solid, so she was never sure how someone with his frame could always move faster than everyone else around him.

Sam sighed, expression elongating wearily. "I GUESS I'll get you one. If you insist." He winked and strode off to the bar, threading through the crowd more gracefully than a man with shoulders like his should. And she knew from recent experience from other bars and food joints that somehow he'd belly right up to the bar, not having to wait at all. It was a bizarre kind of luck, but downtown in a college town, it was the best kind you could ask for.

He was beginning to find it harder to keep his hands to himself; he had to keep resisting the urge to curl his arm around her and tilt her head-- But that was for later, when she was ready and trusting, not a moment sooner. Unlike Leo, he really didn't have a problem playing the long game. It would take awhile, but it was a seduction and it required skill and finesse, not brute force. He supposed that was the true difference between them: he was the feather touch and Leo was the hammer.

He brought her back an identical minty green drink, setting it on the table with a flourish. "Your drink is served." He kept his tone prim. "Thanks! You didn't have to." She smiled sweetly, taking a sip.

He wrenched his gaze from her throat, forcing a smile. "I felt like it." He surveyed the room. "Is it just me or is it obnoxiously packed in here?"

"It's always packed in here. And it's always obnoxious," she replied with a shrug.

"Do you want to get out of here, then? I can check and see if my roommate's around and we can watch Netflix or something." He took another sip of his drink, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Uh, well--"

He raised his hands, face molded into embarrassment. "Sorry, I really did mean just watch movies. Not that I'd be opposed, but I wasn't using it as code."

Emma's brows arched, lips pursing, and for a moment he thought he'd overstepped. But then her face split with a laugh and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, let's finish our drinks and we can head over," she replied. Emma didn't waste any time on her drink - it was delicious, cold, and went down smooth.

His apartment was downtown, just four streets back from College Ave in an apartment building crammed against the residential area. The building seemed decent, but drab and unloved without any decoration or regularly working elevators. But it did come with the fragrance of skunk curling through the halls like all other college apartments, free of charge.

"It's not big, but it works." He led her into his small apartment, flicking on the lights and kicking off his shoes simultaneously. "Bathroom is straight down that hall. Do you want anything to drink? I think I have," he paused as he opened the fridge, "Water. And some more water." He looked up apologetically. "Sorry, we don't shop a lot."

"That's fine! I'll take one." She smiled and looked around the tiny room, finding it surprisingly neat. The room was bare enough that it would be a challenge to make it messy. "Wow, it's pretty clean in here. I expected some more bottles and cups littered around," she joked as he handed her the water bottle. The apartment just looked so empty. Although maybe that just meant he was smart and he went to other people's parties instead.

He glanced around, brows arched up, considering the small space. "It's already pretty small. We didn't want this to turn into a storage closet. Plus, my roommate and I just didn't want to lug a bunch of stuff in here." He shrugged as he flopped down onto the couch.

Emma paused, a beat later she slid down next to him. She left six inches between them and a foot on the other side of her.

"How long have you known your roommate?" She took a swig of her water, leaning back and crossing her ankles, making herself relax into the cushions.

He paused for just a second before resuming navigation of his Smart DVD player menu. "Almost as long as I've been around." His face went soft and sweet for just a second before flashing back to normal. "Best friends, partners in crime." He gave her a sly look from the corner of his eyes and they seemed just a little greener from the angle.

"That's pretty cool. I wish my best friend came here too. It would have made things a lot easier," she replied, leaning ever-so-slightly towards him.

"Sometimes it's awful. Most of the time it's great." His tone was dry. "Alright, so, comedy? Action?" He gently draped an arm around her shoulders and she relaxed against him. He let out a quiet breath, the certainty of victory flooding his very veins.

....

....

Sam paced the apartment, anticipation tingling up his spine. His gut twisted, his jaw ached-- he needed to touch her, to taste her, tonight. Instead of thinking about the evening, he checked and re-checked the contents of the refrigerator, continually disoriented by the sight of food inside it. He had gone to some lengths to make the apartment seem more... lived in; he hadn't noticed before, much to his chagrin, the lack of activity that showed in the small one bedroom apartment. But Leo had made him cautious, reminding him not to have the apartment's decor do a complete 180. That would have been weirder than the lack of items.

He had just managed to soothe himself enough to sit down when he heard a soft beat knocked onto the door. He snapped up like a rubber band, just about to open the door before he paused, back-tracking just enough to make sure the bedroom door was firmly shut. Confirming he had nothing to worry about, he smiled to himself. The incandescence of his pleasure radiated almost palpably from him.

He opened the door and welcomed her in with an extravagant flourish. "You will be excited to learn that tonight I actually have choices for drinks."

"Choices? Oh shit, you're getting fancy," she sassed, eyes rolling at him. She arched a perfect eyebrow at him. "Did you start drinking without me?"

Sam feigned offense. "How could I drink without you? Just for that, you can only drink water."

Emma hummed, propping her hands on her hips. "Well, then I guess I'm going back home..."

He gave her a long sigh. "Fine. Vanilla soda, plain Coke, and Dr. Pepper. Oh, and vodka and rum."

"Vanilla and rum, please." She sat on the couch, letting her skirt ride up her thighs. The buzz of her nerves echoed in her chest, making her palms a little sweaty.

"Good choice." He fixed them both a drink, sitting down beside her. "Now, did we want to do comedy again? I was thinking horror in honor of Halloween."

"Says the man who doesn't like holidays." She took a large sip of her drink, fitting in against him readily. "You make a strong drink."

"I make them right." He hooked his arm around her, holding her snug against his side. "What are you thinking for entertainment?" He looked down into her brown eyes slyly.

Emma hummed and sighed, tilting up her face to kiss him gently, hesitantly, on the lips. She pulled back slightly but he followed eagerly, returning her kiss with a little more heat, tasting the sweet and spice of her drink. His free hand slid over her shoulder and up along her neck, his fingers threading through her dark hair to curl loosely around to her nape. She let loose a contented breath, her hands resting on his strong, solid chest. Sam kissed a line from the corner of her lips down her jaw to along the side of her neck; he could feel her warming beneath his careful hands, a steady heat suffusing her.

"This ok?" He murmured against her hot neck, sucking lightly on the thin skin vibrating ever-so-slightly with her pulse.

"Mmm, yes," she replied, arching against his mouth as he tracked kisses to the front of her throat. His grip on her neck wound tighter and his hand simultaneously moved up her thigh, lingering for just a scorching second before resuming steady progress to her hip.

She instinctively flinched away at the prickle of sharp teeth and Sam made a throaty noise like a chuckle against her skin. A hard, cool hand clamped down on her mouth and her eyes opened to stare, bewildered and then incredulous, up into the eyes of a woman with honey-gold eyes fringed thickly with short dark lashes. Emma gave a muffled yelp as she attempted to recoil, her hands reaching out to clutch anything - Sam, the couch, the strange woman looking down on her - but closed only on air.

"Too late," the honey-gold eyed woman said. Her canine teeth, awkwardly long for her mouth, poked out over her bottom lip.

"About time, Leona. I thought I'd have to have sex with her before you came out," Sam growled out, his grip tightening painfully on Emma. With a swift, near-gentle like motion, he sliced into the soft yielding flesh of his prey's neck, blood welling into his mouth in a euphoria-inducing gush. Sam felt the panicked frenetic beat of Emma's heart against his tongue and he felt Leo's joy sing through Emma's veins, bubbling up inside him, driving him higher and higher.

Emma screamed into Leona's palm, her hands striking against Sam's broad shoulders and head with dull thuds. A stunning rosette of pain bloomed at the side of her neck, her sob a choked gurgle. Her breath came in thick wet wheezes, a mist of blood projecting from her mouth. The crash of coolness that soaked Emma from her scalp to her toes was almost welcome as it muffled the throbbing, fiery pain. But she knew, even as she weakly convulsed in Sam's unyielding arms, she needed to run. Every cell in her body commanded her to run, run, run - but it came too late, just like Leo said.

While Emma's thrashing turned to pathetic spasms, her garbled whimpers launched them right up to the edge of frenzy. Sam pulled free his fangs stained and slick with Emma's blood to grab Leo in an urgent kiss. The lower halves of their faces were drenched and warm, their eyes glowing and glassy. The very last thing Emma saw was her own blood dripping down into her wide brown eyes.

Leo tore free a hank of meat, blood overflowing her mouth. She lapped noisily at the gash, her throat rattling with something of a purr. Bolts of joy rattled her bones even as the reverberations of Emma's fear grew fainter and fainter, leaving just a limp body. Greedily, Leo bit harder, drinking deeper still. She looked up to see Sam, his face glistening with gore, his teeth jutting from between his lips. Leo could feel his happiness rolling off him in waves and desire raced up her spine. "I love you, Samuel," she murmured into the ragged, bloody wound.

"I love you, too, Leona."