Her Majesty // Mikaelson

13 Pleasure

Attached is Vincent being a badass.

"How did you ever talk me into this?" A husky light Italian accent floats in the room. I smile slightly, biting my lip and turning my head to look at him. Alba was already staring at me.

"You're a warlock. So I didn't compel you." I turn on my side, the cool sheets falling to my waist at the movement. A small satisfied smile spilt his face apart. I found myself grinning back. One of those contagious smiles.

"You wouldn't have to." He replies, his hand reaching out and grabbing my waist, pulling me to him. His long thin hands were cool on my skin. "You're as beautiful as you are deadly." He whispers. I raise my hands, taking his head in them. My light eyes gazing into his hazel ones. That were darker with the absence of light in the room.

"You're right. I could beat the shit out of you." I agree, straight-faced. Alba leans forward, kissing me gently. Soft. Like how someone might caress a kitten right before their eyes are scratched out.

"Tell me, Merida, Queen of Scots," He smiles, turning me onto my back and using his arms to keep him propped up over me. "Are you going to kill me?" His raised eyebrow and taunting expression was one that made laughter bubble in my throat. I didn't laugh, though.

"Would you like me to?" I answer his question with a question. "We both know it's well within my capabilities." I hum, tracing my finger delicately down his neck and over his collar bone. Despite our conversation, only enjoyment and lust coated his eyes.

"Dying by your hand may be the most gentle way to go in New Orleans." Alba says, kissing my chin and then down to my neck. I bite my lip, tangling my fingers into his hair.

"You seem to be more useful to me alive than dead." I whisper and then in one sudden motion, flip him over, my vampire speed and strength only pulling a slightly surprised and teasing look from the Italian boy.

"Merida." He smiles, that happy contagious one. One that brightens everyone's worst days. His floppy dark hair and dark eyelashes contrasting with his light skin in an array of beauty. Not sickly, like some pale people. No, it looked good on him.

I bare my fangs, but Alba didn't flinch away in fear. Instead he touched my face slightly, and leans up to kiss me. Sending an electric current through my veins. "I'm one of the most powerful in the French Quarter Coven, and you only have fangs to show?" He teases lightly.

"Well, I could definitely bring my claws out if that's not enough for you." I purse my lips and he laughs. One that makes his nose crinkle. His dimples show and his white teeth to peak behind his peachy lips. I lean downwards, taking in the intoxicating smell of his blood.

I could hear his heartbeat. Slow and steady. Calm. It skips a beat when I bare my fangs again, pricking his throat. The warlock didn't pull away, instead his hands wrapped around my back, holding my bare chest flush against his. I take that as a queue, and sink my fangs into his neck.

The warlock gasps slightly when I do, but I only draw his energy a fleeting moment before pulling away, looking into his dilated eyes. The sun was coming up now, and spilled through the modern bedroom window. The blinds throwing long streaks of sunlight across the bed. Alba's eyes alight in the sun. The green seeming to glow.

"I should probably get back to my family." I lick my lips, the stain of crimson still there. I touch the bite on the warlock's throat. He pulls me down to kiss him before I finally get up.

"It's a good idea you leave before I make you breakfast." He agrees as I grab my discarded clothes from the floor. I pick up my shirt, raising it up. It was torn to shreds. My amused giggle hangs in the air.