no roots

oliver. 30. vaympire. we all have stories we won't ever tell.

[oliverxbentham-blog]

widow-yelena‌:

Yelena couldn’t help but size him up, her dark eyes taking in his face moving down his frame as she canted her head to the side. She’d never allowed anyone to speak to her in such a manner, especially someone beneath her, but something about his fearlessness intrigued her. Because it was fearless to flirt with a woman who could lock you in a dungeon and torture you until you wanted to die. It was strange how much he looked like Alexei and maybe that was one of the reasons she had a soft spot for him. She didn’t back away when he moved his face towards hers, not wanting to be submissive. She met his eyes, brown looking at blue, and simply said. “Good.”

When he moved away, she cleared her throat and sat up straighter, regaining her composure. She nodded as he voiced his understanding and rolled her eyes. She clicked her tongue and gave him a smirk. “You are something else, aren’t you? You read into every little thing I say. You’re brave…I’ll give you that.” She said with a wave of her wrist. This time it was her turn to initiate contact. She leaned forward to put her hand on her knee, enjoying the flirty back and forth that she’d missed so much since her old life. “Oliver…” she started, “I don’t think Adelaide would be very pleased to hear that you’re flirting with your employer. She seems to be very…attached to you. Poor thing…”

The flirting was all in good fun, of course. He quite liked seeing how far he could push her before she reacted in kind, throwing him against a wall or into a dungeon, threatening him and torturing him to her heart’s content. But then there were days like this where she played along, where there was a softness in her eyes that only he could see. Boredom filled his hours too often to not mess around with the people he surrounded himself with--and Yelena was the only woman in his entire life that had fought back and succeeded. She was a challenge, uncharted territory, and his own desire to conquer it all was what kept him going. His charm, on the other hand, might be the only part of himself that’s kept him from beheading, however. 

Then Yelena brought up Adelaide again. Little Addie still locked inside the apartment he had yet to return to and inform her of his return. A more serious look glinted in his eye as he turned his attention back to the drink in his hand, his face steely. “What I do is none of her concern, my queen, you understand,” he said. “Of course she’s attached, but that does not mean it affects her in any negative capacity,” Oliver added, ignoring the strange sharp pain in his chest. Hurt? Anger? Doubt? “It’s good she’s attached. She’d be dead otherwise.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

billie-reed‌:

Inconspicuous was easy, thing was, Billie had just never been a big fan of it. She liked to be seen. Growing up it would’ve been a merit if she’d preferred privacy, if she’d wooed women in the secrecy of the night, hidden in closets and under sheets, sharing smiles only the two understood the meaning of. But she had always been brash, driving her latest lady up to the hottest make-out spots, holding her close at the waist while they danced at parties, scrawling the word ‘dyke’ on the back of her track team hoodie before anyone else had the chance to do it.

And true, sometimes her life called for quietness these days, trailing dinner or a victim, hunting down whoever Astarte had tasked her with killing. But outside of those perimeters there wasn’t too much need for it. Wednesday night working the slow shift at Armania? Not a place one needed to hide. So, Billie didn’t. She watched people who came in through the door and she watched what they ordered- always found it funny when vaympires ordered alcohol, even though she did the same, whiskey in hand right now.

Billie hadn’t seen him in the club before, but she was a vaympire and she was a curious sort. “I wouldn’t know.” She replied with a shrug, sliding closer to him, not embarrassed about being caught. “I’ve never paid much attention to what people say.”

Oliver had to give props to whoever approached him this late at night, especially any of his own kind. Vaympires voluntarily approaching a guard of the Dominion were usually ballsier than most or needed a favor or help from him. Still, she had sidled up the bar in a slinky grace, all attention on her hips, and ordered a whiskey, daring the bartender to make a comment. She had the same aura as the feminists in the seventies--those radical feminists who believed in lesbian separatism and the annihilation of the entire male gender and turning to artificial wombs and insemination as a way to procreate. 

“Why am I not surprised,” Oliver said after her words basically confirmed his entire theory. Her rough-n-tough exterior made him wonder what secrets and pain she harbored deep down inside. The curiosity alone made him want to pull it out of her until she was a mess on the floor, crying from mental collapse, begging him for the sweet release granted by death... The thought alone was enough to turn a guy on. “You certainly don’t seem the type.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

diabolo-s‌:

Nero smiles, he’s studied the humans long enough to know all the answers. “There’s as many possibilities to that as there are people who drink.” He pauses, savours his drink, tasting all the differences in soil, amount of sun and years in it. “And you don’t look like someone who’s into delving into depths of the soul.” A veiled insult, from Nero’s standpoint, but his smile is cordial, intentionally devoid of all loathing.

He turns to sit sideways, one foot on the floor, the other hooked behind the barstool’s rung, facing the man openly, hand resting on a thigh. “I come to bars for sport. I pick someone, and try to guess all the secrets they have.” Nero’s other hand, the one on the bar top, toys with his glass, making wet circles on it’s shiny surface. “In fact, I’m guessing you’re a man who likes to gamble, in any or at least one way. And with that in mind, I’m challenging you to a small game.”

A pause, a warm smile and clear eyes, utilising all innocence of a smart boy of eleven. He leans in a little, creating a friendly closeness. “You ask me three questions about yourself. Any, and I have to guess them right. If I don’t, you get to demand anything from me.” Nero puts a palm up. “Anything. And if I get all of them right, I get to demand anything from you. Of course, these rules are negotiable.”

He lifts the glass to his mouth. “If you want to add or change something, go ahead.”

Immediately, Oliver felt his guards go up on high alert. The walls around him strengthened tenfold and though there was no visible change on his visage, in his temperament, he had a feeling that it was exactly what this man was aiming for. There was too much ease in the way he spoke. The way that his words flitted throughout the conversation that started somewhere and ended up in a destination Oliver wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be near. His insults were minute, perhaps undetectable, but he was bored--he wanted to play with someone--he chose Oliver. 

The blonde flagged the bartender down to order another drink while he listened to the proposition before him. It was intriguing, to say the least. His initial gut reaction was to decline, but his utter curiosity--his pride, his aggression over his strength (though he’d never admit to that part--told him to consider the offer. He cradled the glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the light glint off the amber liquid, and longed for the days where he could feel the beautiful effects of its elixir. 

Finally, he said, “You aren’t the type to go into any situation without already knowing the outcome.” He didn’t add any conditional, any are you? in case he was wrong. The man spoke with the same grace and confidence as a lawyer. Oliver never liked lawyers. “Which means that you’re either a good judge of character and behavior or you know me without me knowing you,” Oliver continued, turning his gaze back to the man. “A bit presumptuous of you to assume I’d demand anything of you.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

lenxivy‌:

to be met with politeness in a crowded bar left her dumbfounded momentarily. without having to say much else, he was on his feet and carrying her combative friend. he cradled her in a swift move and with precise ease; naturally, selena dismissed this for reasons beyond her. politeness and chivalry will never be what she’ll expect from men; let alone men in a bar. albeit a normal, common reaction, she did unconsciously straighten herself before leading him outside. a light glance thrown his way as they walked, the sway of the hips, throwing strands of hair over her shoulder. purposeful moves to give an allure.

flaunting her midriff with a black top and short skirt pairing, a worn-down leather jacket to brave the cold, she was suddenly wishing for an outfit more concealing. mainly due to the faint, crisp air nipping at her exposed skin. thankfully she hadn’t parked far and only took a matter of a few steps for them to arrive. pressing the dial on the car keys, she wasted no time and took to opening the back door for the man to place her friend. who, surprise, surprise, had semi passed out in the arms of a stranger. typical.

“oh yes, babysitting my friends is my top two favorite way to end a night,” she let the sarcasm slip sweetly off her tongue. a gracious smile to still appear demure, she continued, “thank you, though. strangers aside, not many would have helped.” 

Blame it on the alcohol that didn’t affect him. Blame it on the fact that he’d been out of town for too long. Blame it on the fact that the features on her face were constructed so beautifully together, it was almost as if an angel had blessed her. The feelings stirring in his stomach reminded him of the night he first saw Adelaide--a feeling he never thought to experience again. He didn’t know her name. He could smell the sweetness in her blood and the steady beat of her heart, which gave him enough information about her. For now, it was all he needed to know. Oliver nodded politely as she spoke, keeping his smile nice and controlled, but not overly gummy or eager. 

“You’re more than welcome, miss,” he said, laying his London accent on thick. After all this time, his accent had gotten him into quite a few... entertaining situations, and even though not every girl was a fan of it, more often than not he found it melt them like chocolate in the sun. He watched her get into the small car before turning his back and walking toward the door of the bar again--but his senses were on high alert, the smell of her blood strong as a luscious perfume, and when her car pulled out of the lot, Oliver kept to the shadows and navigated in its wake... 

After fifteen minutes or so of following her vehicle, Oliver found himself dissolving into the darkness granted to him by a series of trees across the street of what was a huge house. A sorority house. Forced to keep his focus on the girl so as not to get overwhelmed by the cacophony of beating hearts before him, Oliver watched as she struggled to get her friend over the driveway, up the steps, and through the door. But as the light from the house cut across the street, he saw her pause, her heart beat quickening, and Oliver stepped back, deeper into the blackness, when she turned in his direction. 

[oliverxbentham-blog]

selathesyren‌:

She shrugged her shoulders a little, trying to play it off. “We will see, I suppose.” Sela finished off the rest of her drink with a crooked smile. Glad that that portion of the evening’s conversation was over. She gladly took the shot, holding it for a few moments as he spoke. “I like to give the benefit of the doubt. I’ve heard of people talking with accents for years just so their kids would have them.” 

“I’m from Newfoundland originally.” She didn’t have much of an accent, as she spent the majority of her life there beneath the surf. “I ditched the accent pretty quickly. But other than that, just America.” She cocked her head to the side. “How long have you been here, then?”

“Quite a while now,” Oliver said, leaning back in his seat. “It’s almost hard to believe that I’ve been here as long as I have.” And wasn’t that the truth. In less than a month, he’d reach his 300th birthday. Three-hundred, already? And he’d been in America only a few years less than that. There was so much time spent in this country and he’d probably only seen a fraction of it so far. “How about you? You left Canada, came to America. Is it as prosperous as you thought?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

jaxxxgray‌:

Jax hummed in delight at the confirmation. He didn’t think it would have been that simple. If he had, Jax would have asked it of Oliver the moment he came to town. But no bother, Jax was just happy that he had someone putting a good word in for him. Even if Jax wasn’t exactly the most behaved vaympire in town. In fact, he knew he wasn’t.

The vaympire let out a bored sigh as he glanced over Oliver’s shoulder to notice the redhead. Jax didn’t exactly have a type, but redheads tended to give him more trouble in the past than what he liked. But he had noticed that the redhead was looking at him seductively. Jax smirked, his eyes flickering from hers to Oliver’s. “She has no idea what she’s getting herself into. But that’s the best part.” Jax flashed a devilish grin at Oliver. “I say let’s grab a couple bottles of alcohol and take her somewhere, away from public eye.” 

Oliver nodded his head in agreement, tilting his head toward the bartender as an indication for him to grab the bottles, and then he made his way toward the redhead. Her forest green eyes flickered to him momentarily before dragging along back to Jax. When Oliver finally reached his destination, he presented her his most charming smile. “I’m sorry about this,” he began, his hand pressing gently against her own. “But my buddy is just too shy, you know? He was wondering if he could get your number so he knows how to get ahold of me in the morning.” Her cheeks flamed bright red at that, eyes downcast to her beverage, and she offered up her name. Angela. And her friend, Irene. 

“What a lovely name, Angela,” Oliver said. “My own personal angel, right here.” Her cheeks turned bright red again, but a new wave of confidence seemed to be instilled in her. “Listen, my buddy is just trying to look out for me and I was thinking... No need to call when it Irene looks lonely as well.” The brunette’s eyes undressed him as he spoke, sexy and dark. “Here he comes now.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

adelaidexrochford‌:

Electric. It was the only word Adelaide could describe what it felt like to be fed off by her Maker. It reminded her of a time when she was a child, transporting her back to when she had placed her hand on a large plasma ball at the Science museum in her hometown. Sparks of lightning had immediately shot waves of energy through her fingertips and body making her pull her hand away in excitement and fear. Now however, she didn’t pull away. “Oh Gods, Oliver,” she groaned, legs snaking around his back to anchor herself to him as he pressed her firmly into the wall. Her hands tangled into the longer hair at the nape of his neck a she fought to stay in the moment, and not drift away entirely into a state of bliss. Is this what it felt like for the humans who were fed off of?

When he finally separated from her, a whimper escaped her throat. It was as if he had broken a trance or perhaps rather a bond that the two now shared stronger than ever. She wasn’t sure if vampires ever fed off one another, or if it was perhaps frowned upon. She had just been acting instinctually, letting her body take over. She could see now that those instincts perhaps weren’t to always be trusted. Her body and mind were buzzing with anticipation–with her Makers blood coursing through her veins she felt more powerful and whole than she had in months. Soft panting noises filled the silence between them as she tried to collect herself. Her hand drifted from the back of his neck to trace over his chin, thumb finding a resting spot on his lips where she could softly wipe away the red stains of blood and enjoy the feel his supple lips while their foreheads rested on one another.  

“I’m still furious at you I hope you know that,” she said, her voice lacking any malice it had shown earlier. Her blue eyes scanned over his face, taking in every detail as her thumb continued to stroke over his lower jaw where stubble had begun to form. “And-we have to stop solving our arguments like this, I’m serious!” she added, trying, but ultimately failing to make the last part sound like a threat. Her eyes locked onto his, searching for a sign that he understood she was in fact serious about them arguing like real adults and not well…horny teenagers. “But…” she started, hands cupping the sides of his face and adjusting their position so that they had to look at one another, “All I want right now, is for you to spend the entire night holding me. I don’t want your touch to leave me once. I want to wake up next to you–forget work forget the Council just…stay. One night. Don’t leave my side. Show me that you care. Don’t tell me. You owe this to me.”

The words hung in the air for a moment between them. It was another plea. She hated feeling like she was so weak and desperate for him. Human Adelaide had always prided herself on being able to take care of herself and be self-sufficient on her own. That wasn’t the case now. As his blood coursed through her veins, Oliver was the only thing she could think about. She wondered if it had the same effect on him, as currently the idea of taking her hands off him, or stepping out of their embrace sounded worse than jumping into a pool of ice water so cold it would take your ability to breathe away. Tentatively she leaned forward, pressing a feather light kiss against his lips. “Please.” The word echoed her previous need. The kiss was followed up with a playful nibble on his bottom lip. She had never though of herself as a temptress or ‘delectable’ as he had put it…however even now she knew.

Oliver needed to ground himself. He needed to bring his mind back to the present—to the here and now—and focus. What is happening to me? He’s had to control himself far too many times within the last month and all he wanted was to break free. To taste some release. He imagined taking her to the bedroom, pinning her down, and having his way with her. Maybe even now she’d let him. Maybe now she’d let him do anything. But even as he fantasized about what she would taste like, that velvet soft skin between her legs, he knew that this needed to take time. She was fragile. She was his delicate little chrysanthemum. She’d love him eventually. Truly. Not the yearning she felt as every newborn felt towards their Maker. He experienced his own yearning, finding it in pretty girls before draining them completely of their life.

Adelaide whimpered again when he stopped and it might have been enough to push him forward, to finish what they had started, but he knew better. She hated him so much already that he couldn’t stand the thought of her loathing him in the morning. There was so much work to be done, so much to show her to prove that he had made the right choice in transforming her, and he couldn’t risk any of that being compromised. Even thinking about it made his skin crawl, made him want to fly all the way back across the country to double-check his work. To make sure that he had left Addie’s mother enough money and that there was just enough faulty evidence to make her case run cold.

Addie accosted her and pleaded. She yelled at him and cared for him. She was caught in her own mental game of how to feel and Oliver knew he wasn’t making it any easier. He didn’t want to make it any easier, really. One night. Don’t leave her side. That was a promise he could make for the rest of his life, one he would swear in front of a huge crowd while he revealed her face from beneath a thin veil of lace. One night. Don’t leave my side. You owe me this.

He wanted to say, “I owe you the whole world.” Instead, he said, “As you desire it, my love.”

With Addie stilled wrapped around him, he carried over the broken glass and the smashed bits of wood and the spilled fertilizer and the torn apart couch cushions. He padded lightly over the carpet of his bedroom, the room immaculate as though she had never dared to go in there, and he laid her down gently on his bed. The first time, he understood, that she had ever laid on his bed. Her hair splayed across the Japanese silk sheets, its pale blue hues matching the striking color of her eyes. Turning her over on her side, Oliver curled his body against hers, Addie’s small frame fitting perfectly in the space his created.

He held her carefully, afraid of any sudden movements, and held her. 

[oliverxbentham-blog]

bloomingdahliasantos‌:

Dahlia could feel his eyes taking every inch of her in. It was exactly what she wanted. She needed this fun right now. When he said he wanted proof, Dahlia straightened back up and crossed her arms over her chest. “Proof?” She bit down on her bottom lip, pretending to think of what to do next. “I mean, I can give you proof, but that’s not something we can do at the bar right now.” Dahlia looked over her shoulder at the other bartender, nodding, a quick signal that she was taking a little break. “Who says chivalry is dead?” She teased. “We can go over the rules in a minute.” She grabbed her glass and downed the rest of her drink in one gulp before winking at Oliver and sauntering toward the backroom. Worst case, he didn’t follow her and she had an actual break, but she suspected he’d be right on her heels.

He didn’t move at first, enjoying the view as she walked away toward the backroom. The other bartender shot him a look, gave him a shrug, and one more shot. “On the house,” he said. “You’re gonna need it, gringo.” Oliver hoped so. He finished the rest of his scotch and then knocked back the shot given before following in the footsteps of his newfound minx. A small crate kept the door propped open, her scent leading the way like breadcrumbs. Kicking the crate in, Oliver slipped in through the opening and let the door shut with a gentle click. Leaning back, arms folded, eyebrow raised, he awaited his own private show. “Your move, love.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

selathesyren‌:

The syren pouted as she watched the liquid flow into the tiny glass. “Damn, and here I was thinking that would work.” She laughed to herself as she watched him throw back the shot. The answer to his follow-up question was a tough one. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her sweater as she looked for the right words. 

“It wasn’t that bad. I liked the quiet.” She shrugged, finally absolving to not order a shot and to give him the answer he was looking for. “My parents died. I was still practically a kid. Once I was old enough I sort of went off on my own and went away from everything for a while to sort it out.” Sela took a sip of her drink, trying to think of another question to ask the man. “Have you ever been outside the country?”

As Sela launched into her explanation, Oliver did his best to manipulate his features into one of empathy and care. He practiced, watching a lot of movies, and found that his imitation was damn perfect. “And you went off and made a life for yourself... You seem to have come out on the other side quite well,” he responded, not entirely sure if the words were his own or just another set of lines that he heard from some movie or television show. 

At her next question, Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, actually, I have,” he said. “I think that’s the first time someone’s heard my accent and not have immediately asked about it--or assumed otherwise. I’m from London.” He ordered two shots--one for himself, another for her. She looked as though she deserved a drink. The drunker she was, the better he’d feed. “And you?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

jaxxxgray‌:

Jax was not a trusting person. He always assumed that people had secret motives to their questions and conversations. He had been hurt many times in the past to know that he could only truly trust his older brother. However, it had caused him to have quite a lonely life. Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he genuinely gave his trust to someone else. Would he be relieved? Scared? Confused? Would it cause him to feel even more lonely? Jax wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that he shouldn’t give his trust freely. People had to earn it.

“I want a good word put in to the Dominion.” Jax said as he flickered his eyes towards the man. It wasn’t that Jax was scared of the Dominion but he knew that they had the power to take his immortality away and he didn’t want that. Even though he didn’t get a choice in his turning, he wanted a choice in whether he lived or died. “If you do that, I’ll talk in more detail about my… party tricks with women.” 

A good word. The man could have asked for anything and he asked for possibly the easiest thing Oliver could give him. “A can give you more than a good word to the Dominion,” Oliver revealed. His assistantship with the Vampiric Monarch of Deadwood only increased his ties to the Dominion. And if it didn’t, then he’d do anything to let it. Oliver turned to flag down the bartender once more and when he did, he noticed a little redheaded beauty at the end of the bar, eyes undressing his friend with her eyes. 

“You want a word, I’ll give you ten,” Oliver said, turning his attention back to his friend. “Now, you see the redhead at the end of the bar?” A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the girl was still staring and that her top seemingly lower. “She looks exactly like the kind of girl I believe would enjoy a nice little party trick.” The blonde smiled at his friend, his fangs sharp and glinting beneath the lights. “What do you say?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

bloomingdahliasantos‌:

A full smile made its way to her lips as he laughed, clearly amused by her word choice. Dahlia wondered how old he was. Maybe his laughter stemmed from hearing that word so long ago? Much to her dismay, it was nearly impossible to guess the age of a vaympire. While she loved this game they were playing, she also appreciated that he appeared to be genuinely happy in that very moment.

She watched intently as his finger traced on the bar top, nearly brushing against hers. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet his once more, her smile becoming one that was less amused and more sultry. Oh, this was getting fun. If Dahlia wasn’t interested in someone, her game would have been over a long time ago, but with Oliver, she was just getting started, and she felt he was too. “Is that so?” She hummed, deciding to kick things up a notch and see how good his self-control was. Dahlia moved her dark locks to one shoulder, completely exposing her neck to him. She knew he couldn’t bite her unless he wanted to be in miserable pain for days, but as of now, he didn’t know she was a wolf. She leaned over the bar once more, her voice dropping low. “Is there something you had in mind to see who’s right on this little wager?”

She was more of a tease than Oliver initially anticipated. If he didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that she knew exactly who he was. What he was. What he wanted. And her openness with her flesh, the way it glistened with sweat beneath the fuzzy, fluorescent bar lights had exactly the effect on him that she wanted. All he wanted was to slide his tongue over her navel and take a little bit nibble. His thoughts were getting away from him... The last few weeks he’d been on business--fuck, a month, maybe, it’s been--all he’d had were two blood bags. Blood bags he had to make last and girls he had to resist. Could he resist Dahlia? Probably not. But he would try until the very last possible second, just to see how far she was willing to go.

A wager, indeed. Was there something he wanted? To feel her. Was there something he needed? To taste her. “Start with proof,” Oliver said. “Evidence. Isn’t that how these things always go?” His eyes traced the curve of her neck as he spoke, lingering on her collarbone and on her supple chest. Goddamn it, Ollie, he thought to himself. Keep yourself together. He didn’t want to. He wanted to fall apart completely beneath her touch before he had his way with her. Unkempt thoughts passed through his head as he matched smirk with grace. “A game of sorts. And because I’m such a gentleman, I’m letting you make the rules.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

lenxivy‌:

‘no, no, no! just one more drink lena, pleaaaseee,’ her belligerent friend exclaimed, the slurring of the words indicating she was far from simply ‘drunk’. selena was the designated driver for the night after her sister dragged her to a local bar. all hoping to get over a promiscuous boyfriend she didn’t love or even like. all in all, selena had expected the night to turn out exactly the way it was panning out. she gripped her friend’s wrists tight as she turned to order a water but no bartenders were present. “great,” she sighed, while her company trashed about, trying to break free of her grip.

she had been aimlessly staring, looking for someone to service her, when her eyes remained on a blond fellow. he was rough around the edges with prominent features she couldn’t help but admire. unfortunately, her chocolate hues had lingered and the man was quick to point it out. “sorry, i’m um, trying to a…” she trailed off before finally concluding, think up of an excuse on the spot. “could you help me take her to my car? she’s… a mess.” 

Sharp pangs of annoyance exploded throughout his head as the wasted girl continued to shriek, jerking about this way and that. Why didn’t she just slap her to get her to quiet down? Her friend--the one he caught staring--looked about as annoyed as Oliver felt, her exquisite features twisted into a look that might have made anyone else turn ugly. “Could you help me take her to my car?” the stranger asked. “She’s... a mess.” A series of opportunities flashed through his mind then, heat running up and down his neck as his thirst deepened. 

He focused on the quickness of her heart as it beat in her chest, a combination of her annoyance and flustering impacting its pace. She was no vaympire, Oliver noted, and at that, he allowed the corners of his mouth to pull up in an attractive smile. “Of course,” he replied, setting his glass back onto the bar top. “It’d be my pleasure.” When he stood, he motioned toward the half-passed out girl, asking permission from her friend, before lifting her up into his arms. She was feather light, cradled in his arms the way a newlywed would be held in her groom’s, and he followed the stranger that had caught his eye out into the night. 

Her hair swished down her back, the wind ruffling it every now and again to reveal flashes of the skin of her neck. How enticing... “You seem entirely ecstatic by this turn of events,” he teased. “Night go as planned?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

bloomingdahliasantos‌:

She matched his eye contact as he drank, unbreaking, unflinching as he took a long drink of the alcohol that smoldered down her throat. Dahlia smiled once he put the glass back down. “Oliver, huh? How dapper.” She teased, using the word as a slight ode to his accent. 

She nodded at his next comment, it was older than her, very much so. She figured the next phrase would be something about her age and how young she looked. It was something she heard quite often, she knew she looked younger than she was. “Thank you. And yes, my father was sure to educate me on the do’s and dont’s, the in’s and out’s of all different kinds of alcohol.” Surely enough, his next comment had to do with maturity, but she’d play somewhat coy for now. “Hm, interesting question. I suppose there are things about me that are more… mature. But, that’s for me to know, isn’t it?” Her eyes looked him up and down, trying to gauge what his next move could be.

Dapper. The word amused him so much that for the first time in a long while, the laugh he let out, the bright smile on his face, came naturally as opposed to calculating. How long had it been since he heard that word? A century, perhaps. His smile reached his eyes, lighting them up from the inside, and he resisted the urge to run his tongue of his lips, his thirst for her blood growing stronger and stronger the longer he spoke. 

Everything she said was perfect. A daddy’s girl. Those were always fun. Always seeking a little rebellion, a little corruption, a little fuck-you-Pops-I’m-a-big-girl-now release. Her coyness led him along in the game she wanted to play and Oliver was a willing participant, forever finding amusement in the way he could fit the role they wanted so easily. “I don’t think so, no,” he responded, his finger tracing an infinity symbol over the bar, dipping low right before it would touch the tip of her own finger and swinging back around. He grinned at her again, cocking his head to the side: a bet. “I’m calling your bluff, love.”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

jaxxxgray‌:

Jax tapped his index finger on the edge of his glass, determining if he should tell the other male or not. The things he did wasn’t exactly a secret. Anyone could have heard the rumors about him and his brother. Although, he did wonder if anyone in the town knew about it. He had moved there for a fresh start on life, not to rehash the past. But Jax wasn’t someone to avoid a question either. Even if it was coming from a guard of the Dominion.

“How do I know this isn’t some type of trap?” Jax asked him. “Is that question from the Dominion or is it from you?” He added. Jax wasn’t about to say something that might cause him to lose his immortality. He obeyed the Dominion and their rules but he wasn’t going to be open about his past to just anyone. “And if it’s just you being curious, do I get something in return for giving you this information?”

Oh. Right. With all of his own personal endeavors and vices, Oliver easily forgot what his real job was. He found comfort in tinkering with old clocks and fixing old watches, but then Yelena would appear or a fellow guard would call on him and away he’d go. The boys hesitancy told Oliver everything he needed to know. One of those brothers who were at risk of losing their immortality, of being killed, because of the way they behaved after turning. He’d heard the stories though wasn’t entirely convinced of them. Perhaps tonight would change that. 

It was a fair question. One Oliver didn’t want to answer in its entirety because he didn’t know what he wanted out of this conversation yet. “It’s just me being curious,” Oliver replied after taking another sip of his drink. “Believe that if you will.” He peered over his shoulder to see if any of his fellow guards were around, but he couldn’t sense Yelena nearby anywhere she he highly doubted it. “I suppose it would depend on what you wanted in return. What’s your bargain?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

bloomingdahliasantos‌:

She held steady as she watched his eyes slowly trace her body. Honestly, she doubted he tried to hide it. Dahlia wasn’t stupid, she knew how to work her assets, and at work, she dressed to emphasize them. As much as she hated to admit it, that was the fastest and easiest way to get tips. Plus, she was fortunate to be able to handle herself if things ever went to far.

Her eyes flicked up to his mouth, watching his tongue slide over his fangs, before meeting her eyes once more. After he leaned over and whispered in her ear, Dahlia smirked. Two could play at this game after all. She had no problem playing his games, hell, she did it every night with random drunkards, but with men like him, it was always more fun. Once he sat back in his seat, she took a deep breath, feigning a slightly flustered attitude. “It’d only be fair for me to show you my favorite, yes?” Dahlia almost whispered as she batted her eyelashes. She turned and slowly bent over to pick up a bottle of scotch she stored in a lower cabinet for situations like this. High quality alcohol plus an unobstructed view of another one of her assets meant a handful of different things that could potentially benefit both parties. As far as she was concerned, she was still in control of the situation, she could easily duck out if need be, or handle things if necessary. 

Straightening up, she turned back to the stranger at the bar. Dahlia pulled out two new glasses and set them down on the bar top, pouring a decent amount of the amber liquid into each one. The wolf slid one to the man before picking up her own and taking a drink. “On me, of course. I’m Dahlia, by the way.” She flashed a dazzling grin before sipping the drink once more.

Nearly three hundred years old and still, at times, Oliver acted like the teenage boy he once was. There was a magnetizing quality about her. A girl who knew she was beautiful and utilized it to the best of her abilities, protecting herself against the men who believed that all they needed to do to get inside of a girls’ pants was to call her pretty, gorgeous, or some other variation of the words. Blame it on his nature, blame it on his gender even, but he couldn’t always resist his urges. She was right there, showing it all off for him. For the rest of the patrons in the bar--though he did not have much money on the success of the men surrounding them. 

Yes. She was putting on a show. The way she smiled at him, flipped her hair over her shoulder to reveal the lines of her neck and the slope of her shoulders where the pulse of her beating heart tantalized him, daring him to dig his teeth in, showing the curve of her ass while she bent down to get him yet another elixir that would not have the effect on him that he wished it did. The one downside of vaympirism. Oliver did not take his eyes off her for a single second, entirely focused on the way she moved and floated behind that bar.

Then she spoke her name and it melted into honey. Dahlia. An equally strong name for the young beauty and sweet images of the Black Dahlia flashed in his head. The 40s were a laborious time, but provided enough excitement stateside. Of course, the flower in front of him was far more beautiful than the one a rogue bunch of vaympires killed back in ‘47. “I’m Oliver,” he greeted, retracting his fangs so when he smile it showed only a perfect row of human-like teeth. “A pleasure, miss.” As he raised the glass to his lips, letting the intensity of the scotch coat his tongue and heat his throat, he kept his eyes on Dahlia’s. The scotch burned the entire way down to the point that any first timer would surely end up in a coughing fit. Oliver knew he did when his father first introduced him to the beverage. 

“Your taste is impeccable. Older than yourself,” he said, setting the glass down. “Is your choice of alcohol the only thing mature of you?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

selathesyren‌:

“A secret,” She echoed. Sela had her fair share of secrets, not many of which she could tell to just anyone. Of course, she could always tell a half-truth. Pressing her fingertips to her mouth as she thought, she slowly figured which secret she could part with safely. “Okay.” She said, looking up again. “So I lived, essentially like a hermit, for about two years.” It had been much, much longer than two years, but she didn’t look nearly old enough they have been living underwater for decades. 

“I’m warning you now, I’m horrible at thinking of questions. So I’m just going to turn the same question onto you. What’s a secret of yours?”

The question--statement--seemed to stump her. Just a little. He was eager to see what sort of lie she could conjure up. Would she trust him with a full truth? A half truth? Or was he simply going to get the lie that he anticipated? That was always the fun in games like this. When the words fell from her tongue, he raised an eyebrow. “Essentially like a hermit. That sounds like such a lonely life for a young girl.” Of course, she could have been older than him, but where was the fun in that? 

Chortling, Oliver waved down the bartender and ordered one shot. Tequila, vodka, rumple... The minty-ness of the last one appealed to him, though watching the thick syrup poured into the shot glass all but ruined his appetite for the beverage. Still. He knocked back the shot with ease. “You said you lived essentially like a hermit for two years,” he said. “What were you hiding from?”

[oliverxbentham-blog]

adelaidexrochford‌:

The loyal and ferocious nature of Oliver mixed with his stubbornness proved a strange combination for Adelaide to handle and interpret. On one hand she wanted an apology for his absence, for him to get down on one knee and beg for her forgiveness. To admit that he was sorry for turning her against her will and controlling her destiny. But she knew that would never happen. On the other hand however, Oliver had shown emotion. He had shown that Yelena harming her was not to be tolerated. It was enough, just barely, to soften Adelaides aching heart. Perhaps he was the cruel Monster that she made him out to be in her head, but he wasn’t without his flickers of humanity that struck a chord deep down within herself.

Adelaide went rigid, back straightening as Oliver reached in such a tender gesture to brush away her tears that had now luckily stopped. Her blue eyes were wide as they watched him try to control the rage he was keeping down, channeling it instead into worry over her. He hesitated however, and before she could reach across their distance and caress him instead, he was already busying himself with adjusting the apartment. A slight pang of what felt like grief settled in her stomach, and she too began to assist with some of the minor cleaning. She had busied herself with the task, letting his words soak into her brain in a way that put her in a minor daze.“I am the only person you can trust here, my love,” repeated over and over.

In doing so, she hadn’t even noticed Oliver slip into the kitchen and find the other mess she’d left. So when he snuck up from behind her, she hardly had any time to react, or struggle. "Oliver please no, I’m fi–” she tried to call out before the words were muffled by the skin of his wrist pressed firmly against her lips. There was no way the hungry, juvenile vampyre could resist the cold feel of his metallic blood washing over her lips. Without a second to even process what was happening, her mouth was open, fangs digging into the open wound as she guzzled down the intoxicating liquid. She hadn’t tasted Oliver’s blood since the time he had made her. And during that time she had also been drained of nearly all her own blood. The sensation now was entirely different than it had been when she was nearly unconscious. A visible shudder ran down Adelaide’s spine as Oliver pressed himself into her back, urging her to keep feasting. Her eyes fluttered and dared to drift closed as her body began to process the nutrient rich substance that gave her immortal life. It felt nothing like the human blood she had been consuming over the past few months. This blood was richer. Thicker. Different. No-it was making her feel different. It was finally when she realized this that alarm bells began to go off in her mind. She retracted her fangs, noting that she may have taken more than her fair share. Slowly Adelaide circled around, hands gently finding a resting place on his chest. “Please that was…too much,” she said, her words hardly above a whisper as her left hand snaked further up towards his mouth. “Let me share,” she added, blue eyes inspecting him as she displayed her own wrist out for him to see. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her or why she suddenly felt the need to care for him. All he seemed to do was care for her, and now she wanted it to be her turn. When he denied her, she whimpered, head leaning in towards his in order to press a series of soft kisses along his jawline and neck. “Please,” she repeated again, the words vibrating against the skin of his neck.

Lord have mercy on his forgotten soul. His free arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tightly against him until her entire backside was imprinted into the front of him. As the high filtered toward his head, Oliver turned his eyes to the ceiling, teeth digging into his lip to keep his moan from escaping him. Squeezing his eyelids shut, he focused on letting himself feed his girl and not on the sensation threatening to overwhelm his body to the point that would have him rushing her into his bedroom. But there weren’t enough words to describe the bliss that saturated him as she sucked... and sucked... and sucked... because this, he believed, was the only way to truly discover nirvana. 

It was risky. Were any other vaympire to find out--hell, if Yelena were to find out--then he’d be in trouble. He’d be imprisoned in an instant and then he wouldn’t be able to protect Adelaide from anyone. Luckily, she’d be given the benefit of the doubt. She was a newborn, after all, and no matter how uncontrollable they were, so long as they didn’t kill violently and obviously, then she’d be given another chance. He needed to stop. He should stop. But there wasn’t a single impulse in his body that wanted him to stop. In the privacy of their own apartment, Oliver held her close and let her drink until she couldn’t anymore. His free hand caressed the flatness of her stomach, fingers curling into the fabric every so often, until finally she let go of him. 

There was a moment of delirium as Oliver faded back into reality, into the now, and the blood from his wound quickly dried up, scabbing over, until he healed himself fully. Now, they stood facing one another, panting, buzzing, and all he could imagine was throwing her against the wall and running his hands all over her body before finally burying his face between her legs. He took a step back, the distance imperative to his promise that he wouldn’t touch her in such a way without her permission. But didn’t she realize how she manipulated him? How could she be so blind to her effect over him? If he gave in, if he wasn’t so trained in resisting this temptation, then it would be her fault only when he pressed forward.

And then she did the one thing he wished would never happen because he was still just a man, controlled by his most primal desires. She begged. She begged him. She begged him to touch her. She offered her arm to him and begged him to have his share. Oliver shook his head, taking yet another step backwards, even though he’d already lost. Adelaide barely hesitated, the scent of her skin accosting his senses while her lips peppered an array of delicious kisses along his jaw... Her lips pressed against the spot where his pulse once lived, where his neck met his shoulder, and he grabbed hold of her waist, digging into her much harder than he normally would have cared for, but without her, he was unstable. 

With her, he was insatiable. 

She whimpered once more--“Please”--and Oliver fell over the edge. From his hold on her waist, the vaympire lifted her with ease, crossing the space of the entryway until her back slammed into the wall across from and he had her pinned between his hips and the structure. Foregoing her wrist, Oliver ripped the fabric of her shirt from its neckline until her bare shoulder shined beneath the lights, and he dug his teeth into her flesh to feast on the sweet nectarine of her blood. Her taste and its spell flooded his senses, overloading his mental capacities, and by the grace of some savior, Oliver managed to pull away before he took too much, though it was nowhere near the same amount that she had. 

Her blood dribbled from the sides of his mouth and he ran a hand in her hair, entangling his fingers in her long blonde blocks. His chest rose and fell, incapable of catching his breath, and he rested his forehead against hers, tightening his grip both on her waist and in her hair. “You delectable little flower...” he growled, focusing on his breathing. “You know nothing of your own power.”