1. Juliet

Someone's fuckingat the end of the dorm.

It started off as discreet moans and a gently creaking bed, subtle enough to make you think you're just imagining things. But now it's progressed to high-pitched whimpering and the rhythmic metallic scrape of the bed across the concrete floor.

Even though it's against the rules for us to fuck, every so often it happens. When the vampires set up these camps they had to know it would happen, shoving us all in together and expecting us not to act like humans?

Stupid feeders. They really didn't think this through. I puff out a heavy breath into the humid night air as the moans get louder. Both parties involved are clearly having a great time. The woman in the bed next to me, Gina, shifts to her side, raising herself on an elbow and giving a frustrated sigh. She lies back down and pulls the blanket over her head.

Usually I'd do the same, just roll over and bury my head under the pillow, shutting out the sound and try to go to sleep. I don't want to alert the feeders to what's going on and get anyone in trouble, and if I call out one of them might hear. But tonight it's unbearably hot, and there's not a hint of damn air movement in this fucking dorm. The moans get louder again and I can't take it.

"Can you keep it down?" I say without lifting my head. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

A few people nearby giggle abashedly, and the moans quieten down a little. The scraping of the bed sounds in short bursts, then there's a muffled groan. And silence.

Finally.

I shift onto my stomach and curl my arms around my pillow. My skin tingles a little, and I sigh. I'm not just annoyed, and hot. Maybe, just maybe, I'm a little jealous. My body is caught in a sudden rush of heat that has nothing to do with the early Summer night. Hearing those sounds and remembering what that feels like has me turned on suddenly. I swallow down a groan. Goddammit.

I haven't had sex in years. The last time was my first week of college. Before all of this started.

I chew the inside of my cheek, struggling to remember the guy's name. He's probably dead now, or locked up in a compound just like this one. What was his name? Harley? Hadley? Bradley? Fuck. I can't even remember his name. Not that it really matters anyway.

I do remember that night though. I was a little drunk, enough to have the confidence to go home with a guy I barely knew. He'd had big blue eyes, and he made me laugh. He'd been on the swim team, so he had nice muscles. Nice dick, too. Average length, but thick. He made sure I came first. Maybe he'd have been my boyfriend if the world hadn't gone to shit.

My nipples graze against the cotton of my t-shirt and I bite back a moan.

God fucking dammit. Why did I have to think about that night? Now I'm hot and really, really horny. I squeeze my thighs together. Great. Fucking great. I hate not having any privacy, ever. The feeders keep us in a nice, tight flock, so we're never alone. We eat together, sleep together, shower together, get drained together. It's a fucking nightmare.

I miss being alone. Being able to just think or read or sleep in a room with no other people, or maybe use a fucking vibrator in the shower.

I look over at my neighbor, the one in my line of vision now, to check he's asleep. Larry is an older guy, in his late 50s. Nice enough, a bit lazy. Snores sometimes. Like right now. Good.

I strain to hear if there's any more sounds of anyone being awake, but all seems quiet. Just soft snoring and shallow breathing.

No one will hear me. I'll just lie here on my stomach and be real, real quiet.

I put my hand in my panties, which are absolutely soaked. I circle my clit slowly, and I bite my lip. Being hot turns me on, it makes my whole body taut with need and I don't even know why. Especially when I'm in a really dark room. Everything feels more heightened. I move my fingers fast, chasing my orgasm, just wanting to feel that heat in my face and that pressure in my belly. I don't need it to last long.

After a minute I feel it rising, but I realize I'm so wet that someone's going to hear if I keep moving this quickly. Shit. I have to slow down, and fuck it's agonising. My toes curl as the arousal draws out, and I bite into my pillow to stop myself moaning. Fuck fuck fuck.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears and I can't help but roll my hips a little. The bed creaks softly under me, but it may as well be a hand grenade going off in this fucking dorm. I whimper as my climax builds, harder and deeper than if I'd just been able to finish straight away.

I breathe rapidly, imagining Harley - Bradley? - grinding himself into me, that thick cock stretching me. Fuck, I just want that weight on me again, the weight of another person, holding me, kissing me, fucking railing me til I scream.

Then it hits me, and I press my face into the pillow. A tiny moan shudders out of my throat, my fingers still moving as I ride out the high. My whole body is buzzing with electricity, and I lift my head from the pillow to suck down a rasping breath.

Thunder rumbles overhead just as the double door at the end of the dorm pushes open.

Oh fuck. I drop my head back to the pillow instantly, praying that whoever just walked in didn't see the movement. My fingers are still in my panties against my throbbing clit and who the fuck just walked in? I hold my breath, listening for any movement and wishing I could stop my heart thundering in my chest. It's so fucking loud.

For a moment I wonder if I imagined the sound of the door opening, but then footsteps begin to move across the floor. Slow and heavy. I exhale soundlessly, keeping my cheek determinedly pressed to the pillow, my eyes clenched shut. Whoever it is gets closer. And closer. Panic begins to prickle at my lips. Can the feeder smell me?

I was told once that human arousal sends them into a sort of frenzy. But that was just a rumor, right? Just one of those stupid urban myths that humans threw around about the "feeders", to make vampires even scarier. It's not true. It can't be.

But right now with my fingers still coated in my arousal and tucked between my thighs, I can't help but wonder far too hard. Especially when the footsteps stop. Right at the end of my bed.

I hold my breath, trying to stay perfectly still so they just move on. They're just doing a patrol.

But they don't move. They just stand there. The seconds tick by and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. Why won't they go away? I finally have no choice but to exhale, and my lungs rasp as little as I do which sends a fresh wave of panic through me. They saw that movement, for sure. They have to know I'm awake.

Then they inhale. Deeply. Through their nose.

Oh my god. A feeder is standing over my bed and sniffing me out. I just know they can hear my heartbeat, and the blood ricocheting through my body right now. They can probably smell it pooling in my pussy. Please go away. Oh my god, please just walk out right now.

The feeder sucks in a heavy breath, through their mouth this time. They make a sound that's covered by the growl of thunder overhead. I swear to god they mutter something. Something that sounded a lot like the word fuck.

Pellets of rain begin to ping against the tin roof. The feeder shifts on their feet, boots shuffling against concrete, then they finally move away with a heavy exhale. A few seconds later, the door to the dorm falls shut, the magnetic lock snapping into place. I breathe a sigh of relief, and realize my hands are shaking.

Holy shit.

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling where a fan spins around languidly, doing nothing but spreading the thick air around the dorm. My t-shirt is sticking to me, sweat rolling down my neck, and I desperately want a shower. But, like everything else in this place, that happens on schedule. I can't just get up and shower when I want, I'll have to wait til tomorrow. I get a shower before draining. They like us nice and clean for that.

I grimace at the thought. I'm on shift this week, after having eight weeks off. I always dread these weeks. Daily needles, big bruises and feeling light-headed all the damn time. We get a better diet on draining weeks, but not even that is a pay-off anymore. These days, the smell of steak cooking just turns my stomach.

It used to remind me of summer, my dad standing by the grill while we swam in the lake. He'd call us in while Mom fixed everyone's plate. Steak always came with potato salad, because "that's what the Germans do" she told us. I don't even know if that's true. I just believed her.

Now my steaks come with orange juice and iron supplements that give me cramps.

I fucking hate steak now.

I sigh, grabbing the front of my t-shirt and fanning it away from my body to try and get some air against my sweaty skin. I should sleep. They'll get us up early tomorrow. They always do on draining days. If I don't sleep, it makes the dizziness and nausea so much worse. I close my eyes, counting my breaths, trying to relax.

Footsteps sound on the other side of the metal wall, right behind my head. The window above me is open a little, illuminated by a flash of lightning, sending shadowed images of the bars lining the frame across the dorm. Thunder rolls loudly. The footsteps sound again, as though someone is pacing. It's a feeder on their patrols I decide as I yawn. Just like I thought. They didn't smell me after all.

I'm sure I'm imagining it, I'm sure it's just one of those weird half awake dreams, but as I drift off, I'm sure, I'm certain I hear that feeder sniffing again.