Author's note: Well, this was something I wrote a long time ago, but must have never uploaded here. Anyway, another Velkan/Marishka ficlet because, well, I love the pairing. Reviews always appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own. Don't sue. Got it? Savvy? Ok, good, cause I'm poor.


Why was Velkan worried? Why was he worried for his enemy? Why was he concerned when Marishka did not come to him at the same time that night as she did every night for the past week? Why should he even care? Why was he not sighing with relief, thankful for a reprieve from the siren?

Because, he was hers now. He was her pet, her slave, her toy. He had given in to her, and he was no longer trying to fight her. He no longer had any to desire to do so. The only desire he felt when it came to Marishka, was the kind that made him harden and pant and ache with the need to find release inside her and cause her to moan in pleasure.

Some primal force gained control when Marishka became involved, a dark lust that did not care about enemies and allies, did not concern itself with thoughts of heaven or hell. All it could focus on was her, was filling her, sating her, sating itself with her, inside her.

But now it was becoming more than just physical need and mental lust. He was growing emotionally attached to her. And now he was even feeling worry.

It was completely absurd. She was after all a vampire, one of Dracula's own, one of his chosen even. She was probably hunting, feeding, or maybe Dracula had decided he again wanted to bed her instead of sending her off to dig deeper into Velkan's soul and torture it even more.

"Good evening," came the familiar, feminine voice Velkan had longed to hear despite himself from his window, and he looked up to see Marishka, already removing her flimsy clothing. "Were you expecting me?" she asked with a tone soft yet sly as she sauntered up to the bed.

Velkan narrowed his eyes, feeling the worry leave and a familiar mixture of hate and lust fill its place. "Of course. You always come."

Marishka nodded, a slight grin forming. "I do. And you know you want me to."

The gypsy prince did not even bother replying, did not waste his breath with useless denials. He and Marishka both knew the truth, and had long passed the stage for pretense. So his simply pulled her down on top of him, lying back on the bed as he claimed her mouth, breathing into her as he pressed her cool body against his feverish form.

Letting out a soft moan into his mouth, Marishka ran her hands down Velkan's sides and gripped his hips, her nails scraping against his skin as she moved up and then down, now taking him inside of her. They both broke the kiss, Velkan panting and biting down a groan of sheer pleasure, Marishka throwing her head back with a delighted whimper.

With a low growl, Velkan flipped them over, not bothering to keep his weight off of her, and began to thrust viciously, seeking the rapture that he found only in her, that he was always determined to give her. His movements were almost painful, but the vampire beneath him was stronger than any mortal woman, and she relished violence in any form it seemed.

But one day he would make her burn, hurt, cry out in pain even as he found his pleasure. He would see her fall before him, and he knew even then, after he finally had his revenge, he would kneel down and comfort her.

He would hurt her and he would heal her, and he knew she was aware of his desire to do so. It was in every touch, every groan, every look his eyes when they landed on her. She merely tossed the warnings aside and continued her slow destruction of his soul, taking away every hope of salvation.

Finally Velkan heard her cry out like a banshee, her body quivering with the pleasure, and he found his own rapture, the only glimpse of Heaven he would ever have, and he got it from a fallen angel. He groaned loudly, his entire body on fire as he trembled, his arms holding Marishka with crushing force.

He let her destroy more and more of him. He did not fight it any longer.

Velkan propped himself up, staring down at the beautiful, vile creature's face as she basked in the afterglow of something that could not be called lovemaking.

One day, he would destroy her. And then she would be his and his alone, just as he was hers.