[o] Ding

Richard watched as the white bowl span innocently in the microwave. The room filled with the hum of the microwave and the tapping of his impatient feet.

His hair was a little shaggier then he has originally kept it the last few hundred years. It was just long enough to fit is in a high ponytail with a few curly strands framing his face. His normal neat button up shirts swapped to a more relaxed, plain, t-shirt.

The microwaved dinged and he pushed himself off the the counter to remove the bowl. Red liquid steamed and swirled in it. Humans would pass it off innocently as tomato soup from a glance.

He settled down at the table, silently waiting for the blood in the soup to cool down, stirring it slowly.

Giacinto had just spent the say bugging her least favourite son of the moment and was now in an extremely bubbly mood. That didn't bode well for anyone that passed her.

So, of course, she made her way to the most heavily populated area in the mansion: the kitchen.

She wanted to annoy someone else.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she entered the kitchen. She had been dressed to impress (and tease her son) today and hadn't bothered changing. So she was strolling around wearing tall fuck-me heels, low-rise black skinny jeans that showed off the scraps of lace hugging her hips. A blood red fishnet crop top that matched the colour of her eyes showed of a plain black bra and the expanse of her tanned torso. Her make-up was smoky and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail that swished behind her with each step.

Her painted lip kicked upwards into an amused grin as her carmine eyes settled on Dick. Perfect target.

"Evening," she purred deeply as she sauntered purposefully towards her victi- friend.

The clicks of heels made him look up from his meal and up at the woman. Blue eyes instantly looked down again, cheeks rosy.

"Evening, Giacinto."

Living and Travelling with this woman for the last, what? Five-hundred years or so? Has made him come to know when it was the appropriate time to talk to her or not 0 for this sake. And this was not one of the times.

His stomach knotted uneasily and he glanced up suspiciously at her. Despite her, um, interesting dress.

He wish he put off his meal even longer.

"How are you?"

The woman didn't stop in her slow, purposeful sauntering until she was just a few inches away from the younger Vampire.

"Well," was her husky response to his question.

Her eyes dropped to the bowl on the counter for a moment before returning to his pale blue gaze.

She smirked again, one hand raising to stroke his shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

"And how are you?"

He shrunk a little in his seat. His cheeks still rosy from her dress. Even his lack of attraction towards woman cold not stop him from noticing the full chest in front of him.

He gave her a polite smile.

Today he was going to be ranked up to 'play-toy'.

Hooray.

Her hand felt heavy on her shoulder. He didn't bother shaking it off. It was a little welcoming, to be honest. He hadn't really been in peoples company that often recently.

"I'm good, thank you." He nodded to his bowl. "A little hungry though."

Maybe if he was boring enough she would find someone else to amuse herself with.

Her attention turned to the bowl he had set in front of him again.

She leaned over to dip her finger into it before pressing it to her lips. Her tongue darted out to taste it, the pink muscle slicking over the tip of her bloodied finger.

"So boring," she huffed softly.

Her head tipped to the side. "So unadventurous."

He stared distastefully at the bowl.

"I don't think you can make it more ''adventurous'" He paused for a second. "Unless you are Hannibal Lecter."

He gave it another stir but it was still steaming. He never liked it too hot, but he always made it too hot. Or too cold. He figured that it was better to make it too hot and wait for it to cool then have it cold and look at it pitifully.

He glanced up at Giacinto.

"Then again, you would probably inspire him."

He knew she enjoyed cooking.

"In the past five thousand years or so, there's been this fantastic new invention used to make food taste better. In fact, there are hundreds of types. Perhaps you've heard of them? They're called spices."

Honestly, plain blood was just boring. Adding spices made things far more interesting.

At the mention of the fictional character, Giacinto just gave a crooked smile.

Hannibal Lecter, huh?

"I've had human meat before." Numerous times.

He rolled his eyes at the sarcastic remarks. He knew about spices and they never seem to work in his favour.

He did not bother hiding his disgust, though he wasn't too surprised.

"Lovely."

He could barely stand the thought of drinking their blood, let alone eating their flesh.

Though, curiosity stirred up inside him.

"What did it taste like? And did you make it look all appetising, or was it 'off the bone'?"

The woman's brow quirked up in amusement.

"Which time are we talking about?" She tapped her finger against her lower lip idly.

"There was a time, ooh... Three and a half thousand years ago where I didn't have the luxury of fire." She licked her lips slowly. "Tasted well enough raw. Still, I much preferred it after being cooked with that new spice invention I was telling you about."

She gave the teen a sarcastic smile.

"Perhaps we can find a donor and I can show you the wonders of human flesh cooked right."

It still amazed him how old the woman in front of him was. All though memories and knowledge locked up in a body that looked about thirty. She was pretty mush a walking and talking relic. Not that he would ever say that to her.

He felt a little ill. But, hey, at least his curiosity was fulfilled.

"I will give you a heads up if I take up your offer."

He offered her another small smile.

"Off the talk of human flesh you seem to be dress, um, interestingly. Off anywhere nice?"

"I'll make sure you enjoy the experience." She offered the boy a wink and a toothy grin.

The grin didn't fade as she raised her hands to cup her breasts and give them a light squeeze. They bounced a little before settling as she let them go.

"Like the outfit, then?" She offered him another wink before dipping her finger in his blood again, licking it away.

"Just got back, actually. I was out with Zuri. You remember Zuri?"

They had met once when she had first called Zuri back, thirty years ago.

He flushed a little as her chest bounced and he averted his eyes again.

"Love it."

He wondered if words dripped with enough sarcasm.

"Zuri?"

He squinted his eyes and toyed with his ring trying to recall.

"The name rings a bell."

"My son."

The woman gestured vaguely. "Kemite. Nubian Kemite. Made before I even met Aleksandr." Her gaze dulled slightly at the name of her ex-mate.

"I haven't had him around here often."

It was rare Zuri ever appeared in the mansion. He lived in town.

He chewed his lip and twisted his ring a little longer in thought. His eyebrows furrowed in an annoyed scowl.

"Oh yeah. Him."

He spat out the last word. He had not love for her son.

"Where did you both go?"

Giacinto laughed.

"So hostile," she crooned. "He asks about you, you know. Wonders when you're going to realise that you want him."

A joke shared between her and her son. They both knew that Dick would not get on well with Zuri so they joked about it often.

"To one of my brothels. Had a very lovely man and woman. There is nothing so great as sharing mealtime with your child."

Pale skin flushed red and he shot up in surprise.

"What? No! Never."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"I honestly hope you mean it as a joke."

He didn't want some idea planted in peoples heads that he liked someone. His love life was a private matter. He didn't like jokes about it.

"And that sounds appetising." He looked back down at the bowl of soup, which now look cool enough. "And I really hope your hands were clean before you stuck your finger into it."

Giacinto tutted softly. "Now when have I ever been one to joke?"

She patted Dick's cheek gently, smiling down at him.

"Mmm, it was. Her skin felt so incredible under my fangs." Said fangs clicked out at the memory. "Her moans were so sweet." She licked her lips and gave a deep purr.

Her eyes flickered down to the bowl again and she smirked. "Clean enough."

He swatted the hand away from his face.

A shiver ran down his spin and his stomach twisted. That was a little more information then he wanted. And he wondered if she was holding back.

he shot her an icy look.

"I will take that as a no then."

He pushed the bowl away from he. He can last a few more days with out it.

"Dig in if you want it."

"I bit of cum never hurt anyone," was her response to his (very correct) guess.

She dipper her finger in the blood again and sucked it clean.

"It's likely to give something so bland a much better taste," she hummed softly.

"Perhaps I should talk to Doc about changing the blood up somewhat."

"I rather like it how it is." He grumbled.

The blander the better. He didn't want to enjoy it. He hated that he liked the taste - crave it. And whatever else some cheesy self-hatred monologue a vampire would have in these modern and, often, not very accurate novels.

"And how exactly would you change the blood up 'somewhat'."

"I'm not sure."

She ran her fingers over the surface of the blood, causing ripples in the red liquid.

"Perhaps have Doc go under the needle. Mixing a few drops of his own blood with the batches will greatly improve the flavour. Nothing like Witch blood."

The woman licked her lips at the thought of such magical blood.

He watched her finger slide across the surface. He jerked his eyes away and back up at her.

"Witches?"

Curiosity bubbled up in him. As far as he know, he had never met a witch. Well, there were rumours about his mother and a love potion, but he doubted them to be true.

"What are they tend to be like?"

"Incredible. In nearly five thousand years, I've never tasted any blood better than a Witches. Though I assume the Fae would be better. They're stingy, though. I've never been able to convince Xtopherus or Feidlimid to give me even a drop."

She clucked her tongue. "It has such an incredible, indescribable taste."

The woman shook her head. "Doc is an asshole, though. Fun, at times, but an asshole."

"I always though elves took the trophy for the best walking talking food bags."

Obviously, he was wrong then.

If it was as good as she described, if it was offered to him he would give it a taste. He would have to know what is tasted like if it was 'indescribable'.

"There seems to be a lot of assholes in this place." He grumbled. "I think you attract them."