Possessive♤MikaYuu

9. Mikaela

"Wha-What?! I can't suck you!!!"

"Hmm? Of course you can!"

There they sat on the width of the bed, the ravenette perched upon his knees and the blonde dangling his rather long legs off to the side. Mikaela's hands were pressed firmly into the mattress, vermilion eyes gazing at the boy who so easily offered his blood to the vampire.

"I can't. Not right now." His voice was low and hesitant, it being seen in his eyes that his thoughts were running at a mile per minute. Something was off, that claim being confirmed when the color in his eyes faded and he stood up. If looked at closely enough, you could see his hands tremble fearfully like a branch in a heavy storm, along with his parted lips letting out shaky winds of his breath. He quietly spoke once more before heading out of the now-tension filled room, "I'll take you home tonight, Yuu-chan. If you need to rest up before we go, please do that now. I'll be back to check on you in a while."

The corridor was empty and dark; scarlett curtains shut and spheric lights dimmed to make the pathway visible. With each step taken, an echo of creaks would be heard as if the place were a vacant sewer tunnel beneath the city; except, here it didn't reek of that foul scent and was embellished with fancy decor.

The blonde peeked around the corner to find another empty hall, reluctantly walking through until he reached the end of the hall.

Knock, knock.

It wasn't often that he was this nervous; the anxiousness tingling throughout his body like electricty going through a power-line and his heart raced faster than anything before, mouth dry from the overwhelming activity.

Obviously, his father wasn't the most approachable of people and meeting with him was always risky business, unless if it were himself coming to Mikaela. He felt the need to speak with his dad, however, for it was an important matter.

His mother opened the door, a greeting smile resting on her face when she saw the appearance of her son. She wore a silky, deep crinsom nightgown that loosely hung off her petite body, her long, curly, blonde locks that were much like Mikaeala's tied up into a neat bun. Surprise and concern were colliding into those beautiful, crystal-like eyes of hers, seeming to be curious as to why he was coming at this hour. Family meetings were held at brunch, not during the evening like this.

"Mikaela, darling, is everything okay?" She saw the fear hidden in his expression that he so desperately tried to cover up with the fakest of smiles, making her furrow her thin eyebrows in deep worry.

With a polite nod, Mika answered her with a reply of yes before he went on with his other words, shifting into a serious facade that was rather difficult to maintain around the intimidation of his parents. "I need to speak with you and father."

"Ah, why of course." Holding the door open, Mika's mom gestured for the teen to come inside and led him into the sumptous lounge of the enormous bedroom his parents happened to share.

In the room furnished an ebony-colored sofa and a large recliner, both occupied with soft, red pillows made of high-quality, velvet material. There was also an elegant, glass-top coffee-table in front of them, sitting low for the advantage of the seating. Ontop of the surface decorated a vase with many roses, all painted in their typical dark red tone. They were looking ill to be there, drooping low as if they were dying; they possibly were, for the room was dark with no windows for sunlight.

Sitting on the singular, cushioned seat was his father, deeply concentrated into the hard-back covered book. His glasses perched upon his nose, those dark eyes of his flickered up to his son who'd just entered the room. An eyebrow cocked up with surprise, he was not expecting to see him this late.