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Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
He had never met anyone like you before.
Here you are, laying on his bed. Shirt rolled up to reveal the soft flesh of your stomach. Acting like it's the most natural thing in the world, to not be afraid of a bloodfiend.
He's a holy man. He must be, for Father.
So why does he keep having such unholy thoughts?
All he wants to do...
...Is take a bite.
Taste the soft skin. Rip it open, lap at the gaping wound like a dog.
But he shouldn't.
...That doesn't stop his mind from wandering, of course.
Imagining you, splayed out, whimpering in pain as he slurps and sucks at your bleeding body.
He would be nothing but a disgusting maggot if he did that, wouldn't he be?
...
Curses.
He can't stop thinking about it.
How horrible he would be.
He's so ashamed of himself...
Curiambro's face turns hot as he looks away. He can't handle looking at you right now.
His eyes keep darting back.
That exposed skin.
So soft.
So inviting.
Drat, he's already reached out.
Poked you.
You're warm.
Humans are warmer than bloodfiends. It's simply nature.
But for Curiambro, a bloodfiend both touch-starved and blood-thirsty...?
He craves that warmth more than anything.
His hand splays out across your skin. You squirm and shiver, giggling in surprise.
Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.
Face red, he leans down. Presses his lips against your stomach. Closes his eyes, as if not seeing his own actions will absolve him of all sin.
His tongue darts out from between his lips, tasting the soft skin. Dragging across your body like a slug, leaving a wet trail wherever it touches.
He can't resist pressing a gentle kiss where he wants to bite.
He hopes, prays that you will forgive him. Forgive him when his teeth sink in.
The warmth of human blood fills his mouth. The rush of heat almost drowns out the gasping breath you take.
He's an animal. Nothing but an animal.
On all fours, he's crouched over you. Hands resting on your ribs, long brittle nails digging into the skin. Leaving marks. Bending.
Despite himself, he moans.
He will never be forgiven for this transgression. This sin. Filial Impiety by Disobedience.
He can't stop himself, regardless. He's been so, so hungry. Is a ravenous dog not allowed to feed?
Of course it is. And if the dog is nice, it will let you stroke its head as it chows down.
Just like you're doing.
....Just like you're doing?
...
...Ah.
It's so blissful.
Delicious blood.
The warmth of your skin.
Your hands in his hair.
Hearing your weak voice call him a "good dog," like you know just what he thinks of himself.
...You always liked disgusting things, didn't you?
No wonder you're so proud of this disgusting mosquito larva.
This mosquito larva, who is tearing out your intestines. Lapping at them like a hungry dog, holding them close like a lonely man.
The coppery stench of blood fills the room as Curiambro devours. It's been so long. He's not felt this warmth in ages. He can feel your love for him, taste it.
Your hand slides off his head, falling against the mattress and bouncing slightly. Your eyes are now low-lidded and dim as you fade in and out of consciousness.
It turns him on to see you this weak.
The guilt at that arousal makes it worse.
How did this happen?
He's grinding against you already.
He's lost all control over himself.
He's disgusting.
He can't stop.
As if he wasn't horrible enough.
Drool slides down his chin as he ruts against your leg. Soft moans crawl out of his throat like insects as he mindlessly thrusts. He's an animal. A repulsive monster.
But it feels so good... You've gone pale, blood spilled all over the sheets, soaking into the cotton deep enough to stain the mattress. And he can't stop.
Pardon the language, but it's so hot seeing you like this.
He really can't stop.
You passed out, but he doesn't even notice. He's too focused on the high of arousal. The rush of your blood. He can feel it, that animal desire. He's never felt this way before, never allowed himself to.
Father forgive me, for I have sinned.
Drank of a human's fresh blood despite your orders not to.
Abandoned my celibacy in pursuit of something I... Certainly cannot describe.
Father, absolve me of my sin.
So I may do this to my beloved again.