asphaltcowgrrl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2014-06-27 03:47 pm
asphaltcowgrrl) wrote2014-06-27 03:47 pm
Entry tags:
Vamps and Vehicles (Dakotah & Sierra original fic)
Title: Vamps and Vehicles
Pairing: Dakotah James/Sierra James
Rating: T for a bit of blood play (a very, very tiny bit) and a little suggestiveness
Word Count: 1,078
Warnings: None.
Short Summary: As a vampire, Dakotah isn’t used to being afraid. But when his wife gets behind the wheel – and he’s trapped riding shotgun – all bets are off. Based on the prompt: #9: Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night. (All About Eve)
Author’s Notes: Dakotah is one of my very favorite original characters. I have a lot of fun screwing with his stoicism.
As a vampire, he had certain advantages over his human wife and friends. One of them was near imperviousness to harm. However, if Sierra continued to drive like someone set her tailpipe on fire, he might be the first immortal to die due to seatbelt decapitation.
“Could you possibly slow this vehicle down?” His eyes remained glued to the asphalt before them.
The redhead in the driver’s seat flicked her gaze at him and rolled her eyes. “Chill out, fang-boy, I’m only going five miles over the speed limit.”
Only five miles. As far as he was concerned, it was six miles too fast. No, make that ten. Dakotah’s fingers tightened into a fist at his side, hopefully out of Sierra’s line of vision.
“Kotah, you okay?” Sierra risked another glance at the passenger seat.
“I am perfectly fine, my love,” he lied. She knew he hated traveling in this manner. He’d walked for centuries and he could’ve walked – or flown – again tonight. But she had insisted, said it was good for his character, whatever that was supposed to mean.
“Your white knuckles are telling me another story, honey.”
He felt the truck decelerate as she eased her foot off the gas pedal. “Thank you,” he breathed. Fear was something practically unknown to him and yet, anytime he was trapped inside one of these metal boxes it rose within him stronger than any bloodlust.
Looking over her shoulder, Sierra pulled to the side of the road, slowed, and came to a stop. “Would you like to get out?” The ‘and walk’ was implied. “Because, if you do, you’d better get out now and hoof it awfully fast or we’re going to be late.”
Mortals were forever in a hurry and his lovely wife was no exception. Their half-human, half-vampire son, Austen, was in some sort of production that evening and due to his very nature, they had been running late from the beginning. He knew she didn’t hold him responsible for the fact that the sun set so late in the summer, but he wasn’t quite sure she didn’t partially blame him, either. “No, my dear, I would not prefer to ‘hoof it’ as you so colorfully put it. Please, drive on.”
She grinned briefly at the panicked vampire riding shotgun before pulling back into traffic. “Fasten your seatbelt, my sexy bloodsucker. It’s going to be a bumpy night,” she laughed, flooring the gas pedal.
Dakotah lurched forward, hand bracing against the dashboard. “For the love of all things holy and sacred, Sierra! You will kill us both!”
“Oh no I won’t, you’ve got to learn to trust me.” She tossed him a wink and changed lanes, narrowly missing the car she was passing.
Trust was not the issue here. His safety – and her own – was. Having learned to pick his battles, something else that was relatively new to him in this lifetime, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Thinking they could pick up this discussion later, when they were home and safe, he concentrated on their son and the upcoming evening.
“Almost there, Kotie,” she informed him a few minutes later. “Hang in there for me and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for your bravery later.”
Despite the mocking tone in her voice, he knew she felt badly for his discomfort. Whether she actually rewarded him for his good behavior or not was a moot point because, in the end, there had been no choice. “I shall hold you to that promise, my redheaded witch.”
Sierra cackled happily. “You can open your eyes now,” she said, expertly pulling into a narrow parking space. “We’ve arrived.”
“And not a moment too soon,” he breathed.
Unbuckling her seat belt, she leaned over into the passenger seat. Pressing her mouth against his, she kissed him. His hands, still shaking from the nerve-wracking drive, reached for her face, each cupping half of her chin. Parting his lips, he lightly drew one sharp incisor along the length of her full, lower lip. A thin line of blood beaded up, teasing his tongue as he licked it away.
Sighing heavily, Sierra pulled back before he could make a move for more. “Later,” she promised, kissing his cheek and sliding back into her own seat.
“Indeed,” he agreed, unlatching the belt that held him hostage in his seat. “Your ‘bumpy night’ hasn’t yet begun.”
She pulled on the door handle, opening her side of the truck to the night air. “Promises, promises you tall, dark and dangerous man.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, a hint of his still-extended fangs peeking out below his upper lip. “You shall get your promises fulfilled in spades, my dear. Your sister has… suggested? Yes, I think that’s the correct word. She has suggested she return home with Austen in tow this evening.”
“Really,” Sierra drawled, closing the door behind her and waiting for her husband to extract himself.
“Correct,” he replied, exiting the vehicle and smiling at her across the roof. “And she knows not when she will return him.”
“Tell me you didn’t glamour her you big jerk.” She glared at him, a fiery storm banking behind her eyes. He knew she’d unleash all her redheaded fury on him if she even thought he had coerced her sister into doing something she hadn’t planned on doing prior.
“I never glamour the innocent,” he said, mildly affronted that she’d even suggest it.
“Uh-huh,” she snorted. “Tell me that one again, would you?”
Truth of the matter was that the only innocent he ever glamoured was their son and that was only – only – to get him to do his chores. Oftentimes, it was a thousand times easier than trying to convince him through traditional means. In addition, before long, Austen would be immune to his glamor. He figured he should use it while he still could. “I promise you, I did not glamour your sister, Sierra.”
“I believe you,” she said, coming around to his side of the truck. “Now, let’s go find our seats, get this over with, and go home.”
“I cannot argue with that, my love.” He slipped his arm through hers and escorted her into the recreational center in an extremely outdated manor. She never complained, however, because outdated was something she liked to say he owned in a most magnificent way.
Pairing: Dakotah James/Sierra James
Rating: T for a bit of blood play (a very, very tiny bit) and a little suggestiveness
Word Count: 1,078
Warnings: None.
Short Summary: As a vampire, Dakotah isn’t used to being afraid. But when his wife gets behind the wheel – and he’s trapped riding shotgun – all bets are off. Based on the prompt: #9: Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night. (All About Eve)
Author’s Notes: Dakotah is one of my very favorite original characters. I have a lot of fun screwing with his stoicism.
As a vampire, he had certain advantages over his human wife and friends. One of them was near imperviousness to harm. However, if Sierra continued to drive like someone set her tailpipe on fire, he might be the first immortal to die due to seatbelt decapitation.
“Could you possibly slow this vehicle down?” His eyes remained glued to the asphalt before them.
The redhead in the driver’s seat flicked her gaze at him and rolled her eyes. “Chill out, fang-boy, I’m only going five miles over the speed limit.”
Only five miles. As far as he was concerned, it was six miles too fast. No, make that ten. Dakotah’s fingers tightened into a fist at his side, hopefully out of Sierra’s line of vision.
“Kotah, you okay?” Sierra risked another glance at the passenger seat.
“I am perfectly fine, my love,” he lied. She knew he hated traveling in this manner. He’d walked for centuries and he could’ve walked – or flown – again tonight. But she had insisted, said it was good for his character, whatever that was supposed to mean.
“Your white knuckles are telling me another story, honey.”
He felt the truck decelerate as she eased her foot off the gas pedal. “Thank you,” he breathed. Fear was something practically unknown to him and yet, anytime he was trapped inside one of these metal boxes it rose within him stronger than any bloodlust.
Looking over her shoulder, Sierra pulled to the side of the road, slowed, and came to a stop. “Would you like to get out?” The ‘and walk’ was implied. “Because, if you do, you’d better get out now and hoof it awfully fast or we’re going to be late.”
Mortals were forever in a hurry and his lovely wife was no exception. Their half-human, half-vampire son, Austen, was in some sort of production that evening and due to his very nature, they had been running late from the beginning. He knew she didn’t hold him responsible for the fact that the sun set so late in the summer, but he wasn’t quite sure she didn’t partially blame him, either. “No, my dear, I would not prefer to ‘hoof it’ as you so colorfully put it. Please, drive on.”
She grinned briefly at the panicked vampire riding shotgun before pulling back into traffic. “Fasten your seatbelt, my sexy bloodsucker. It’s going to be a bumpy night,” she laughed, flooring the gas pedal.
Dakotah lurched forward, hand bracing against the dashboard. “For the love of all things holy and sacred, Sierra! You will kill us both!”
“Oh no I won’t, you’ve got to learn to trust me.” She tossed him a wink and changed lanes, narrowly missing the car she was passing.
Trust was not the issue here. His safety – and her own – was. Having learned to pick his battles, something else that was relatively new to him in this lifetime, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Thinking they could pick up this discussion later, when they were home and safe, he concentrated on their son and the upcoming evening.
“Almost there, Kotie,” she informed him a few minutes later. “Hang in there for me and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for your bravery later.”
Despite the mocking tone in her voice, he knew she felt badly for his discomfort. Whether she actually rewarded him for his good behavior or not was a moot point because, in the end, there had been no choice. “I shall hold you to that promise, my redheaded witch.”
Sierra cackled happily. “You can open your eyes now,” she said, expertly pulling into a narrow parking space. “We’ve arrived.”
“And not a moment too soon,” he breathed.
Unbuckling her seat belt, she leaned over into the passenger seat. Pressing her mouth against his, she kissed him. His hands, still shaking from the nerve-wracking drive, reached for her face, each cupping half of her chin. Parting his lips, he lightly drew one sharp incisor along the length of her full, lower lip. A thin line of blood beaded up, teasing his tongue as he licked it away.
Sighing heavily, Sierra pulled back before he could make a move for more. “Later,” she promised, kissing his cheek and sliding back into her own seat.
“Indeed,” he agreed, unlatching the belt that held him hostage in his seat. “Your ‘bumpy night’ hasn’t yet begun.”
She pulled on the door handle, opening her side of the truck to the night air. “Promises, promises you tall, dark and dangerous man.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, a hint of his still-extended fangs peeking out below his upper lip. “You shall get your promises fulfilled in spades, my dear. Your sister has… suggested? Yes, I think that’s the correct word. She has suggested she return home with Austen in tow this evening.”
“Really,” Sierra drawled, closing the door behind her and waiting for her husband to extract himself.
“Correct,” he replied, exiting the vehicle and smiling at her across the roof. “And she knows not when she will return him.”
“Tell me you didn’t glamour her you big jerk.” She glared at him, a fiery storm banking behind her eyes. He knew she’d unleash all her redheaded fury on him if she even thought he had coerced her sister into doing something she hadn’t planned on doing prior.
“I never glamour the innocent,” he said, mildly affronted that she’d even suggest it.
“Uh-huh,” she snorted. “Tell me that one again, would you?”
Truth of the matter was that the only innocent he ever glamoured was their son and that was only – only – to get him to do his chores. Oftentimes, it was a thousand times easier than trying to convince him through traditional means. In addition, before long, Austen would be immune to his glamor. He figured he should use it while he still could. “I promise you, I did not glamour your sister, Sierra.”
“I believe you,” she said, coming around to his side of the truck. “Now, let’s go find our seats, get this over with, and go home.”
“I cannot argue with that, my love.” He slipped his arm through hers and escorted her into the recreational center in an extremely outdated manor. She never complained, however, because outdated was something she liked to say he owned in a most magnificent way.