InsaneJournal

Current mood:

hungry

Vale fed tonight.

He can go without for a few days, but he's been running on fumes recently. I could see it in his sluggishness in the afternoons, how long he was sleeping, and how much paler his skin was already becoming. Something had to be done, and it was either me or some random stranger. Since Vale doesn't particularly enjoy attacking random strangers, and since I didn't want him to do that, either, the choice was rather obvious.

The movies and the stories lie. The act itself...

Christ, I can't even bring myself to say it. I'm acting like a child and I'm not even sure why. Other than, perhaps, because it was less intimate in the act, and yet more powerful in its effect, than I'd been imagining.

He drank my blood. He sank his teeth into the artery in my thigh and drank my blood directly from my body. The reason that the movies and stories lie is because the act itself isn't particularly exciting or erotic. A quick pinch, really. Some licking. There was no magic involved, no direct line from his teeth to the pleasure points in my brain. I certainly didn't spontaneously orgasm. Well, not from the blood-sucking, at least. That part was about as erotic as donating to the Red Cross.

I was nervous, even though I was the one who'd suggested it. I had no idea what to expect, and I should be glad that Vale did know, because I suspect I could have made an even larger fool of myself if he'd allowed it. Once again he climbed into my lap, straddling my hips with his thighs, but this time we were downstairs in the living room, and he was the one who was nuzzling and licking at my skin while he stripped off my clothes one garment at a time. I mentioned that I hadn't realized that I'd have to be naked for this, and he laughed, a little breathlessly.

"Oh, love," he murmured into my ear, "would you stop at McDonald's for a paltry cheeseburger if you had the time and leisure to enjoy a five-star meal? Of course not. And neither would I."

It was a soft seduction, meant to lull instead of excite. He brushed kisses soft as a feather's touch over my mouth, the curve of my cheekbone, the shell of my ear and the line of my jaw, even as his fingertips stroked continually over my shoulders, down my arms and up again, to run over my chest. The tactics he used were working, too; my eyes were drifting shut, my muscles relaxing one by one, my head falling against the back of the couch, baring my throat. And then his mouth moved lower, too low, and a menacing growl, deep and low and completely unexpected, rumbled up from my chest and burst out in a snarl. It was the first sign of my new condition that I'd experienced since the full moon, and it surprised me enough that my eyes shot open again and my head lifted. His did, as well. He backed off immediately and our eyes met. I have no idea what expression was on my face, but whatever it was, it caused his mouth to tremble for a mere second before he burst into laughter. I growled again, this time on purpose.

"Oh, alright, I'm sorry," he gasped, and chuckled. "I really am, but it was funny. You looked... you looked..." And he started laughing again, damn him. I was about ready to stand up and dump his ass onto the floor, but he calmed down finally and leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. "I'm over it. Really," he assured me. "Message recieved, loud and clear. Stay away from your throat. Grrr."

I'd had enough of it. I raised my arms and brought them around him, pulling him against me and kissing him thoroughly. He matched me easily, his hands creeping up and his arms winding around my neck. It brought our bodies into full contact, chest to chest and hip to hip; my hands stroked up and down his back, over the blades of his shoulders, down his spine, and his hips began to rock. With the way we were sitting, I could feel his dick hardening against my belly and his balls rubbing over the bulge in my own pants. I brought a hand around, flicked open the snap on his jeans, pushed my hand into the waistband, and he pulled off of my face with a gasp. "No!"

I swore, viciously and colorfully, under my breath. He was laughing again, his eyes shining with it even though his skin-tone made him look like death warmed over. He grinned, evaded my lunge, and tumbled off my lap. "Keep it together, love," he murmured. He made quick work of the button and zipper of my slacks, pulling and tugging them off my hips and down my legs, tossing them carelessly to the side with our shirts. His own followed a moment later, and when he pushed my legs open and kneeled between them, a bottle of lube was in his hand.

"Where'd that come from?" I wondered.

He frowned up at me. "Under the couch, where I stashed it," he answered. "One of us had to. Now lean back and hush, o impatient one. You are going to enjoy this. Do you understand me?"

I lifted an eyebrow at his tone and wondered fleetingly what he'd do if I disobeyed, but finally I shrugged it off. I still had no idea what he was planning, but it apparently involved lube. How bad could it be?

Not bad. Not bad at all.

He leaned forward, and since my neck was off limits, continued his ministrations with my chest, drawing each nipple between his pale lips to be licked and sucked in turn, nibbling down the edge of my pec muscles, nuzzling down the line between my abs to the flat plane below my belly button - Jesus fucking Christ! that felt good! - and pressing hot kisses into the crease where my leg met my crotch. My head did fall back and my eyes squeezed shut, and, when his lubed hand closed around the shaft of my dick, my hips bucked up.

He was rougher, more insistent, with his hand than with his mouth, and his grip was perfect. My entire concentration was centered on that grip, the way he pushed my dick through his fist and pulled up again, running the pad of his thumb across the head only to twist and push down again. I didn't even bother to open my eyes when his strike-teeth sank into the femoral artery running just under my skin. I could feel the lick-suck of his mouth but the pinch, so close to where his hand was pumping my cock, was easily ignored. It was much nicer to lay back and concentrate on the sensations that were more immediate, more intense.

I'm not even sure how much he took before his head was lifting and his hand was taken away, but I do know I made a very ridiculous noise, swiftly followed by another - much more pleased this time - as he pulled himself up onto my lap, held himself over me, and sank down onto my dick with barely a pause. I opened my eyes to see him smiling viciously, triumphantly, the blue of his own eyes glittering in the lamplight and his skin flushed pink with vitality. A very small drop of red glistened at the corner of his mouth; his tongue came out, licked, and drew it in. Elegance and gentility were gone along with the pallor, replaced by a more primitive need; his hands gripped the back of the couch on either side of my shoulders as he fucked himself on my dick, wildly, his head thrown back and his strike teeth visible between his parted lips.

Damn, he looked good like that. Strong. Utterly beautiful.

I could have knelt and kissed his feet when he came quickly, explosively, crying out and arching his back. His hips ground down, lifted, ground again, and I followed him over the edge, my arms coming around him and pulling him in, down, milking it for every last drop of white-hot bliss.

Of course, some time after, while I was idly scratching myself and eyeing the contents of my fridge in hope that something loaded with iron would magically appear, it finally occurred to me that neither of us had remembered a condom.

Well, shit.