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She folded her hands over her aching belly and waited.
The motel room was small but clean. She always chose this place. It was cheap and efficient for her needs, and the bed was comfortable enough. She had arrived in the afternoon, with only an overnight bag containing a single change of clothes and a few toiletries.
He wouldn’t arrive until later, after the sun had set. In the meantime, she had popped some ibuprofen to help dull the pain—and in preparation for the pain he would cause her. It always hurt when he came to her and did the Thing. But it was also rapturous.
She still couldn’t pinpoint how their friendship had unfolded into what it now was. The first time she had met him was in a darkened bar on a lonely Saturday night. It had been a pretentious little place she had never been to before, and she had gone there alone, pretending to herself that she was more adventurous than she was, and maybe hoping to get laid. She had noticed him the moment she walked in, and he had stared at her without making any effort to hide it. Any other night, she would have bolted and flagged a cab, but there was something about him that intrigued her despite the warning klaxon ringing inside her head. And after she was just buzzed enough to be brave, she had approached him and demanded to know why he was staring.
He had laughed then, and claimed to have simply been lost in thought, and would she beg his pardon, and join him for a drink, his treat? She knew he was full of shit, but there was the something that made her sit down and start talking.
They had talked for an hour over neverending pours of Macallan that he paid for, and the drunker she got, the more she talked about God and the devil, and her thoughts on why people exist, and he had listened to her, rapt, as nobody in her life had ever done. She knew there was something deeply wrong with him, that his brilliant beauty and charm were… abnormal. Four drinks in, she told him this.
So what’s your deal? she had asked him, aware as she said it that it could be construed as rude, but equally knowing he wouldn’t consider it so. You seem off to me.
Off? he had said, smiling broadly. He had such a radiant smile. In what way?
She struggled to find words for what her gut was telling her. I don’t know. If you told me you were a ghost, I wouldn’t be shocked.
At this, he had burst into raucous laughter. A ghost! he had said. No, I’m not a ghost. Sometimes I wish I was. But you’re very intuitive, ma cherie.
They had gone to her place that night, because he said he didn’t live around there, and fucked. The condom was bloody when he pulled it off.
Oh my god, she had said, did I… did I start my period? she asked dumbly, even as it penetrated her foggy head that the blood was inside the condom, not on the outside of it. She looked at him and waited for an explanation.
He had tied the condom off and threw it in the trash can like it was the most normal fuck in the world, and said, I’m a vampire, ma cherie. But please keep that between us. I like you very much and it’s a bad situation I’ve put you in. Knowing this about me.
The implication was clear, even if he didn’t say it outright.
It had been almost a year ago and, at some point, the deal had been struck between them. She stayed away from him every day of the month except for one; on that one day, she met up with him at a neutral location and allowed him to have his fill of the stagnant blood within her, so that she didn’t have to deal with a week of pain and inconvenience. In return, he got what he called an “intoxicating little snack.” To her surprise, he was meticulous about the rules of their agreement. He didn’t contact her outside of their one given monthly meetup day. He always waited for her to contact him first. He never haunted her house or poofed into a bat. In a way, she almost wished—
No. It’s hormones, that’s all.
A few hours passed, while she stared at the television. It played local news for a city hundreds of miles away from her, thanks to satellite, and she held her belly as the weather guy informed her it would be raining tomorrow in that city she had never been to and probably never would go to. The blinds were pulled tightly over the one tiny window, so she didn’t notice that twilight was beginning to drape the landscape outside her room.
It was only when she heard him that she knew. He didn’t have to knock; she could hear him inside her head as he strode up the sidewalk to her door. Open up for me, my love.
It took her a minute to get to the door, and when she opened it, he was taken by her beauty as he was every time he saw her. He knew from her thoughts, from the feeling of her, that she felt badly about herself, but that wasn’t unusual for her during these meetings. Her hair was piled on top of her head and twisted into an elastic band, and she wore an oversized tee shirt and sweatpants. She was exquisite to him, no matter what her own overly critical mind told her about herself.
He stepped inside the room without speaking, and she closed the door behind him, securing the three or four locks stacked up the length of it. He turned to her and smiled. “Darling, what do you think will harm you while I am here?”
Rolling her eyes, she gave a small smile that made her even more luminous, if that was possible. “Force of habit.”
“Ah,” he said, reaching out and sliding his fingertips down her forearm, delighting in the shiver that ran through her. “Perhaps one day you’ll feel safe with me.”
She rolled her eyes again and this time disguised a smile that would have happened. It was like a wound that couldn’t heal, knowing that she was still afraid of him. This arrangement they had struck drove him out of his mind with longing, but he resolved to fulfill it for her as long as she would allow him the privilege.
Taking her hand, he drew it to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. She averted her eyes but the concealed smile surfaced.
Are you ready, ma belle? he asked her, without speaking.
Yes
Still holding her hand, he led her to the bed in the middle of the room and allowed her to settle herself into it. She laid back into the pile of pillows she had made for herself and wiggled down into what was a comfortable position for her body, but the way she fussed at the hem of her shirt betrayed a discomfort of sorts in her mind. It was always like this. He loved her for it.
“If you knew how I see you,” he said.
“You always say that.”
“It’s always true.”
He crawled onto the bed, leaning in above her, and kissed her on the mouth, slow, savoring the way the feel of the tension slipping from her lips. She wound her arms around his neck, and he allowed her to be the first to pass the threshold of their lips with her tongue.
When she broke away for breath, he moved down to her neck, kissing the beautiful expanse of skin there, stretched over tightened muscle and throbbing with holy blood. A familiar ache began in his upper jaw, that of the savage vampire’s mouth restrained through centuries of practice and the drinking of the blood of ancients. He could control it, but he still felt it so keenly when the prey was sublime.
He slid a hand up beneath her shirt and found her naked beneath. She gasped softly when his fingertips found an already swollen nipple.
They hurt, he said inside her head.
Yes
If I’m gentle?
Yes
He pushed the shirt up to her armpits, above her breasts, and lowered his mouth to one of them. He felt her arch up slightly into him when he slid the tip of his tongue over the aching nipple, coaxing it into even fuller hardness, if that was possible. He tickled it lightly until she was pushing her hips against him, grinding against his stiffened cock, and then, smiling so slyly she wouldn’t be able to see it, he moved to the other nipple and commenced the same tender pleasuring.
Her mind said, oh god, I’m ready, but out into the air of the room, she simply moaned. It might have been his name, but he couldn’t hear it for the thoughts she was proclaiming in his direction: do it, oh god, just do it already
He drew back to sit on his knees, and there was a moment when she continued to push her hips up as he was drawing away, and she grunted in frustration at the lost contact. Grinning, he pulled her sweatpants and panties down as one article.
Are you going to make it, mon bijou?
I could kick you in the face if you want.
He laughed. “That won’t be necessary,” he said out loud. “I am as hungry as you are.”
Suddenly, she made a move to sit up. “Oh, I forgot to—”
“No,” he interrupted her. He placed a hand to her sternum to settle her back in place. “No,” he said again. “I want to.”
He spread her thighs, grazing his palms down the inner expanses of silky skin, down to the meeting of them where he stroked her until she pushed up into him. Then, parting her, he wound the little cotton string once around his finger and pulled on it slowly. It slipped out, engorged a dark, rageful red, and he battled himself not to suck the fluid from its fibers right then and there. She was waiting. He laid the tampon aside for after.
He dipped his face into her and ran his tongue slowly up the cleft of her delectable cunt, reveling in the flutter of her thigh muscles astride his shoulders. There was scant blood here yet; the little cotton obstruction had done its job too well. He preferred it when she let it run free into a pad, or even better, a glorious little cup, so he could take several previous hours’ worth of her blood like a mortal would take a shot of tequila. He knew this disturbed her, but there was no good way to lay the cup aside while he attended to her, and he knew this was why she rarely used those wonderful little inventions. The pads and the tampons could be dealt with after she had departed for the shower, which was much better for her.
Her fingers raked into his hair and latched on, pulling his face deeper against her. He licked her again, swirling his tongue in unknown patterns over the hardened little clit, before suckling it in a soft and delicate rhythm. She drew her knees up, putting her bare feet against his shoulders, and thrusting herself up against his greedy mouth.
Yes
Her toes curled against his collarbones as he sucked, as he pulled the pleasure from her and delighted in the way her thighs trembled against him, until finally she cried out. Her back arched off the bed and he could taste the wisps of the blood begin to flow from her.
He slid his tongue down along the sacred valley of her, pushed it inside her to sample her nectar. A thrill of euphoria passed through him so strong he knew she could feel it rippling off of him like a heat wave. The aching in his mouth peaked and, despite his efforts at repression, he could feel the changing of his teeth begin. He drew away and laid beside her.
A minute, mon cher
The sudden absence of his mouth—the absence of him—was like a freezing wind sucking into the space he had occupied. “Like hell,” she growled, sitting up.
“I’m not in control of myself,” he panted, then bared his teeth in a forced smile to exhibit the problem for her. His canines were very slightly lengthened, very slightly sharpened. She had seen them much more violent in the past; these could still be under his power for just a little bit longer.
She flipped over and swung a knee over him, planting it on the opposite side of his head. Then she grabbed a fistful of his hair. “Better do it fast, then,” she said, watching his eyes widen with surprise for only a fraction of a moment before they narrowed with lust. He sunk the daggers of his fingernails into her hips and pulled her down onto his face. She felt his tongue snake around and into her before he latched to her with his lips and began sucking at her, a wet vortex of pleasure and pain. She spread her thighs and let herself be pulled down onto him, one hand twisting tighter, almost brutally, into his hair, knowing from his thoughts that the pain of it was the only thing keeping his fangs at bay, her other hand flailing for the edge of the headboard.
“Oh god,” she gasped out loud, rocking forward and back against him, the sting of his nails burning her skin now, but jesus christ it was happening, the inside of her was releasing for him, pulsing and pushing, heaven and hell—
The euphoria inside his mind was a blur of sensation, his and hers both, blended into one, and she could feel his cock rock hard and weeping a little now against the friction of his pants as if it were her own. She focused her thoughts on it, imagined touching it, rubbing it, licking it, swallowing it,
He shuddered and groaned against her pussy as he sucked and she threw her head back, his pleasure rippling through her as he felt it, and her pleasure shooting through him. And after a few moments, she knew she was empty but he didn’t want to let her go, and she didn’t want him to let her go, she wanted to die like this, wanted him to drain all her blood just like this, drain it all from between her legs and let her die in bliss.
He pushed her off of him and they lay side by side, both gasping for air. A thick silence descended upon them as their breathing slowed, and when she finally drew a full breath, she rolled her head to look at him. His lips were stained with her blood and his eyes were closed. The thick brushes of his lashes were stained with reddish tears. He never tried to downplay the intensity of this for him, and it was one of the reasons she allowed him to do it.
His eyes fluttering open, he turned his head to face her. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers. There was nothing else for either of them to say. So she smiled and got up, gathering her sweatpants and panties as she did so, and disappeared into the bathroom.
He watched the bathroom door close and heard the shower water begin to run. He wouldn’t see her again for another four weeks or so, when she would text him to ask what day was good for him, and then again to tell him what number room she had rented. He had offered his own place in the past, but she had refused. She had refused her own place as well. The terms were the terms. And he respected it.
He got up from the bed and, as always, pocketed the deliciously flush little tampon she had left behind. He would save it for later, to sustain the experience of her for more than just the short time he got to be in her sweet presence.
He let himself out the door, knowing only one of the locks would engage upon his exit. But he would watch from a distance to make sure the door remained untouched until he could hear her trip the remaining locks from the inside.
He knew he was overly sentimental about her, but it’s just how it was. She was tasty, and he had a sweet tooth. He decided not to overthink it as he turned to go home.
END