Shadows grow longer and longer as the sun sets behind heavy curtains, and I watch the darkness spread slowly across the room until it engulfs me completely.  The glow of the laptop screen is the only light in the room, flickering dimly from its place on the desk, but it’s still more than enough light for me.  That’s one of the advantages of my demon-silver eyes…I hardly need any light at all to see clear as day.  Comes in handy when you’re a nocturnal hunter.

Flash of flame briefly illuminates the room as I light another cigarette, taking a deep drag as I continue my vigil over the motionless body on the bed.  He’s been nothing but a corpse for almost two days and for almost all that time I’ve felt my anticipation building inside.  I’ve watched over him, leaving his side only to feed, and even at that I couldn’t go far.  I need to be near him, need to make sure he’s safe, and as I’ve watched him I’ve begun to wonder about this false death. 

Is it somehow made to fool humans and anyone who might harm the sleeping demon before he wakes, hiding the true predator from the world as I do when I force my eyes from silver to blue?  Part of me wonders when the moment is that he finally becomes sensitive to light, his skin becoming flammable to the sun’s killing rays. Is it when he wakes or before?  It doesn’t really matter.  None of the hows and whys make any difference.  He’ll wake and he’ll be a demon, thirsting for blood and death and pain…just like me.

Take another deep drag from my cigarette and let the ashes fall to the floor, uncaring of the finery around me for the moment.  All that matters is this pull that grows stronger with each passing minute.  It’s like there’s a tug on me from the inside, heightening all my senses almost to the point of forcing my face to shift.  I’ve never known this feeling and I can’t make it stop.

Look to his motionless features and I instinctively know he’s waking.  Not because the sun has long since set, not because it’s been enough time…but because I feel it in my blood.  Something’s happening…and it’s happening to me as much as him….

I can’t move. Nothing moves. I’m swimming in darkness with nothing but my thoughts for company. What the fuck’s going on? I sense…my blood stirring. What the hell did I do last night…?

I remember the club. I remember the Jack Daniel’s. I remember…. Nothing after. Okay. So where am I now? There’s softness behind my head. A pillow? Maybe a jacket? I’m laid out, exposed, because the coolness of the air conditioning caresses every inch of me that’s bare. Sacrificial almost. Where’d that thought come?

Why can’t I move? More important, where the fuck am I and why can’t I open my damn eyes!?

Take a step closer, almost to the foot of the bed, unable to help myself.  I don’t know what’s happening.  I don’t know what I’ve done.  The memories of my own awakening are so jumbled and laced with fear I don’t know what he must be feeling. 

And he is.  He is…feeling.  He’s not just a lifeless corpse any longer.  I know it with every fiber of my being.  Another step closer and the cigarette falls from my hand to be crushed under my boot and into the carpet.  He’s here.  He’s with me.

Success! I manage to shift my body just slightly, a tiny catch of clothes against my skin. It’s not much, but I will have control over myself again. Focus intensely on opening my eyes. I never realized how hard blinking really is. It’s like every muscle in my body had their connections cut and I’m forging new ones.

I see his eyes blink open slowly and once again I have to move closer, barely past the foot of the bed, so I can look down at him…and everything about him suddenly seems so much different than before.  His eyes don’t see me yet but they’re no longer the crystal blue they were in life.  No, now they are a demonic silver…just like mine.  I trace the contours of his face with my gaze and I don’t understand why, but he looks so different than the night before…and it’s much more than just the eyes.  

Then it hits me. It’s his face.  His posture.  His whole body as he lies prone on the bed.  The deep creases in his brow, the tension in his shoulders, the waves of despair that rolled off him before are all gone…as they should be.  Study his face a little closer and I swear he looks at least five years younger.  Watch him closely and smile as he takes in a deep breath, his mind probably just now telling his body to breathe…even though he doesn’t need to.  I wonder how long he’ll keep that particular habit…I’ve long since been broken of.

It all surges back. A renewing of sensation from my whole body: torso, arms, legs, feet, hands, fingers. Push to a sitting position and groan, the world graying out before me while faint throbbing in every joint make itself known. Lean forward and rest my head in my hands, trying to warm the chill from my skin.

More awake now, but I don’t move my hands. My blood sings through me and there’s something causing it to hum. It roars through me, urging me to something but I don’t know what. Push those idle thoughts aside and search for full memories. The flashes from before, disconcerting, and can’t be my whole night. I want those memories. Frown as I scrub my face with my hands, the movement stirring memories to the surface. The club, the bar, the drinks…the walk back? The roof!

My spine cracks like dominos falling as I sit upright. My hands curl against my thighs as I relive the roof, the dash back, the elevator. It’s all…different. Distant and out of reach, I’m removed from them, observing from an outside perspective. Frown as the memories continue, scrolling past like film until it comes into view… and it hits me.

My name.  God, how long has it been since I’ve heard my name?  But it’s not really my name anymore…is it?  Shake my head and inwardly curse myself at being made to slip back so easily.  I’m not him.  I’ll never be him again.  But still…it is almost nice to hear that name again.

Stare at him as he slowly turns to look me, and I realize he’s really seeing me.  He stares at me with shinning silver eyes and even though I know they shouldn’t be part of me still expects them to be blue.  But it’s the demon’s eyes I see now.  My demon’s eyes.  And he is mine.  I know that with every molecule of my body.  And he knows me.  But does he know who--what--he is?

How do I address him?  As my Childe?  Or as he seems to know me?  Would it be better to treat him as who he was or force him to be who he is?  Time stretches out between us and I can feel his confusion as much as I can read it on his face and I come to a decision.  Slow.  I want to take this slow…at least…at first.  I don’t want his first memories to be jumbled and confused.  I want to make this easier for him…I just have to figure out how.

“You once called me that,” I finally answer him, opting for truth for the moment.      

“Y-you’re supposed to be dead….”

You haven’t seen him in two years and that’s the first thing you say? You don’t even know why he ran or why he’s even back. You were never as close as he was with Jimmie. Why isn’t he appearing to him?

Shake my head and give him a weak smile. “Umm…sorry. Soo…why are you in my hotel room?” Glance into the suite and see nothing odd; no dark stains, no piles of beer cans, no furniture overturned, nothing broken, and there’s no smell of spoiled food, just the chilly air of the room. Nothing out of the ordinary.

So many questions I want to ask, he probably sees them flitting across my face as I stare at him. Am I interrogating him? Shit…I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to drive him away again; back to wherever he’s been these past few years. Run my hand over my face, sliding over the gravel of my scruff, and take a deep breath. Focus, focus, I tell myself before I give him a smile, trying to hide my uneasiness behind it. How’d he find me? Why’s he here? Should I brace myself for him to leave again? What’s that itching feeling?

Stare at him as I recognize my dark striped button down. I know it’s mine. There’s that ink stain on the edge of the collar, and my black jeans, with their gray smudge near the edge of the left pocket. They look better on him than they ever did on me. “Jeff…why are you wearing my clothes?”

“Because they’re better than mine,” I tell him simply and come closer to him, my knees hitting the bed as I look down at him.  So many questions.  So many things he doesn’t understand and I don’t have the first clue how to show him.  But I know how I feel.
 
Part of me wants to set my demon lose and pin him to the bed, biting and fucking him until he knows who and what he is. I could knock him across the room so easily, force him into submission and only then, when I feel like it, tell him only what I want him to know.  My hand itches at my side, fingers curling slightly and once again I’m fighting back my bloodlust, holding back the change.  I could take him.  It is my right.
 
But then I stare into those bright silver eyes filled with confusion, looking up at me unknowing of everything but the fragmented memories in his mind...
 
And I can’t.
 
At least…not yet.
 
Slowly move to sit next to him on the bed and ponder his questions and my possible responses because there are so many answers I can give him.  But for the moment I go with my first instinct and take it slow, mixing the truth in slowly with what he already knows.
 
“I’m here because I brought you here.” Run my eyes over him as I continue to study him and it’s all I can do not to grab him, touch him in some way. “Just relax, Junior. You’re safe now.”

I shift away as he looms into my personal space, twitching with the need to escape. I have a habit where I don’t allow my friends in the same bed I’m in. It’s this personal issue of mine. In some cases I’ll make an exception, hotels for one, but this is a little too close for comfort even if it is Jeff.

He’s been through my clothes too. My skin buzzes at the violation, his hands riffled through my stuff. What if I’d brought something…he could’ve found it…. Boundaries have been crossed and I’d prefer those boundaries back.

And how am I safe? Safe from what? From being mugged? From being murdered? What’s he trying to do? Insinuate himself into my life again and what? I don’t know what he wants. Worry at my lip and really look at him. He’s… different. It’s not his hair falling over his face or the fit of my clothes on him. It’s more.

Curl my fingers over the cuff of my sleeve, twisting it back and forth, as I study him and he studies me. I search for words and any common ground with this Jeff I haven’t seen before. He’s a stranger I’m meeting for the first time. A slow drip of foreboding crawls down my back and coils itself around the base of my spine.

I can’t even think of anything to say. The silence feels natural like the redemption before a storm. Breathe deep, but the air condenses in my throat. It’s too heavy touch clings to my tongue and there’s…something more. Look around the room, darker than before and I can see my laptop. Firefox. iTunes. DMPRL. How can I read my icons from here? It’s thirty feet away…my vision was never that good. Why can I still make out all the details in the room when it’s so dark?

Glance at the clock and it’s late enough I’d need the lights on, but I don’t. Bite my lip and turn back to Jeff and his eyes... they’re not blue. Contacts. It has to be. Right? Lick my lips and I can’t meet his eyes, I need him to be normal. I need things to be two years ago, I need for him to be the man I trusted and I need him to make things make sense again. “Those contacts you’re wearing are really creeping me out. Where’d you get them? Cause they’ll come in handy come Halloween.”

Conflict. 

I feel it rolling through him and even though I don’t know exactly what it’s for…I know it’s in opposition to me.  And I want to squash it.  I want to force him to accept me…now.  But instead I once again hold back my baser nature, forcing myself not to assert my full dominance yet.  There will be time…soon.  Right now I need to be still and just watch him take in his new senses in an unthreatening environment.

A slow smile crosses my face when he finally seems to really see me.  I wondered when he’d ask about my eyes.  As before I keep with the truth, short and simple and for now…unthreatening, “I’m not wearing contacts, Junebug.” Deliberately use the name, curious of his reaction.  “I never have.” 

Shift a little closer to him, erasing the distance he put between us as his blood calls to me, even stronger than the night before.  I don’t know how long I can hold back.  He’s mine and every instinct I have tells me to take him, to make him mine.

Run my eyes over his body again and watch as he continues to breathe, his mind overriding his undead body.  See how he plays with the cuff of his sleeve and I want to strip him bare and own every inch of him.  He’s confused, nervous, but still the connection is there.  Maybe if I just touch….

“What’s wrong?  You don’t like my eyes?” I ask him as my hand brushes against his.   

Confusion as I feel nothing at the name. I should feel something, a reaction of some kind. But…I don’t. Tremble and shift away from him again, almost sliding off the edge of the bed. I struggle to keep my voice firm, “What have you done to me?” and the words I hear...they can’t be mine. “What’ve you done to yourself? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Trail off in mute horror, one foot against the floor and eyes fixed solidly on him. His eyes. They fucking flashed!

I don’t trust him. All of my weight balanced against the floor. Measure distances between the bed and the nearest escape. I don’t know how fast he moves. I don’t know anything about him other than he wants my clothes. What else could he want? It won’t stop at just clothes, he’s gotta want more. Bite the inside of my cheek, making a small noise.

It was him! He did...! Oh my god. Scramble off the bed and plaster myself against the wall. Oooh, nice June. Didn’t escape, had to find the nearest wall. IDIOT. I need to know. Quiet. “What happened Jeff? Are you even Jeff? Where is he?”

Press my lips together and I feel the curtains under my hand, tugging unconsciously at the heavy fabric. My other hand pressed flat against the wall and I swear I can feel every ridge of the paint burning itself into my memory. “...What have you done to me?”

Slide off the bed in one fluid motion, my eyes never leaving him.  How dare he run from me?  Doesn’t he know who I am?  What I am?  I’m his Sire.  How dare he pull away from my touch.  I own him.  His body, his blood, everything that he is belongs to me because I made him.

Stalk closer to him, my eyes pinning him to the wall as I silently dare him to make a move, to fight me.  But for the moment, he doesn’t move.  He just stands there, trembling like a deer caught in headlights.  It’s pathetic.  And I’m tired of playing these games.

“Jeff is dead, Junior.  And so are you.”

“I’m not dead. I’m standing right here and so are you.” I gesture between the two of us. “Now who’s the one telling lies? Whatever you’re into, I don’t want any part. I’ll pay whatever you want but after that you need to leave.”

No longer cowering against the wall, my hands fisted as I glare at him, but there’s a tightening in my chest and a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that signals the bottom’s fallen out on whatever you wanted to happen. I’m tempting a predator every sense screams, but how? He’s just like me….

Those eyes, it’s those fucking eyes. It has to be. Maybe if I just give him whatever he wants he’ll leave?

Smile at his words and his stubbornness…I wonder if I’ll ever break him of that?  I’m certain I could.  It’ll just take time, but the real question is…do I want to?  I can feel his fire, the same as the night before and I swear I can almost taste his blood on my tongue.  And I will.  But, I think this time, I’ll make him beg for it.

Reach down quickly and take his hand by the wrist in a vice-like grip and lift it to my chest.  Slip his hand inside my unbuttoned shirt and press his palm over my heart.   Hold him tight when he struggles and continue to pin him with my eyes.  It’s time for the games to end.

His touch isn’t as warm as I know it should be. His cool fingers press against my wrist and I can feel the frost of his touch burn me. Maybe he was out on the balcony before. Maybe he’d just had something cold to drink….

Pull, jerk, and yank at my hand. No matter what I do I can’t break free. What’d he slip me in my sleep? What drugs did he shoot into my veins? I don’t acknowledge his questions because there’s no warm rush of blood under my hand, there’s nothing, but the chilled stillness of his chest.

Trick of the mind. It’s the drugs he gave me. It’s what he wants me to think. Don’t know what “senses” he’s talking about. I don’t have anything, but the five every sane person knows they have. About to demand he stop playing around when that floods my senses again and I feel my face pinch and move in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Something rises through my forehead, gathering into a tight stretch of skin and oh fuck what’s happening to me?

Everything amplifies.

Hearing. I listen in on the comfortable chatter of a married Japanese couple on their way home, the rapid babble of Spanish from three floors down between a girlfriend and boyfriend on their special getaway to the city, and the chafing of ropes against skin and muffled whimpering coming from within this hotel suite. Sight. I see every crevice, the grain of the door, and the screws in the light switches. Touch. I feel every hair under the span of my hand against his chest, the places where my clothes drape against me, and the carpet fibers tickling the soles of my feet. Smell. The grit of the exhaust from taxis that seeps in under the fake air, the nearly scentless laundry detergent used on the sheets, and the sour stench of something in the next room. What about taste? Will it be this magnified?

I lose myself under the influx of desperate new senses. Raise my free hand to trail over the new contours of my face that’re like the ridges on my elbow but not as indistinct. Fewer folds of skin, but forming thicker ridges under my touch, more defined toward the center of my forehead and fading out the further from the center I trace. The edges of the folds slide down to the corner of my eyes and bulge out, casting a slight shadow at the edge of my vision, but only if I focus on it. How can I still see so clearly? What am I? What’s going on?

Tug at my lower lip with my teeth and freeze as I run my tongue hesitantly over my teeth and feel the jagged edges on every tooth. Wince as I slice my tongue and I taste my own blood as I curl it against the roof of my mouth. It’s no longer metallic and just liquid. It’s…like having a Sundrop for the first time. You never want to go back to Sprite or 7UP because you can’t stand the barely there taste and miss the slight tartness of the lime. It goes beyond want and slides right into need.

Reach up and trail a finger over the valleys and spikes of each tooth, all like shark’s teeth. Would they grow back like a shark’s if I pulled one out?

Flinch when I feel a prick and pull my hand back to see blood well at the tip. Touch my finger to my tongue, wondering when the bleeding will stop, and absently suckle. The fresh blood trickles down my throat and I moan softly at the delicious taste. I need more.

Snap my head toward the other room of the suite and hear a soft growl from somewhere. Did Jeff bring an animal into the room, but forget that. Lick my lips and search out whatever’s caught my attention because I need that, whatever it is that’s hovering beyond recognition. Inhale deeply to get a better sense of what it is. The air’s tinged with it; a delicate flavor that I must have while it’s fresh. Shake my head, fucking hell! Pull at the hard ridges over my eyes and wince as pain ripples through me.

Watch transfixed as his face finally shifts from the hunger I know must overwhelm him.  Does he feel the girl’s fear?  Smell her blood from the other room?  I know he doesn’t understand and I wonder if he even realizes the sound he makes, the low growl indicating his need.

Gaze into his eyes and study his new face, the creases between his eyes, the protruding ridges over his brow, and none of it corresponds with the panic in his voice.  He’s still fighting what he is, thinking in human terms when mortal concepts no longer apply.  Rows of razor sharp teeth flash as he speaks and it suddenly hits me that he’s as attractive as a demon as he ever was in life.

He was made for this.  Made to be mine.  I know this even if I don’t understand it.  Run my thumb over the back of his hand and tell him simply, “You’re hungry.  That’s the pain you feel.  You need to feed, and it will all make more sense.”

Watch as his hand runs over the unfamiliar contours of his face and I can’t help but smile at his confusion.  Was I ever this naive?  Stare into his eyes when they meet mine again as I speak, “Do you want to see what you look like?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Shake my head as I remember his face shifting, my horror, and then his grip, forcing me to his will, holding me against him as he took my life.

Why couldn’t he have let me go? I wanted to die, I was ready to die. Why’d he bring me back? Why couldn’t he just let go?! Step into him, push him, smack his chest, and thrash against him, “You cheated me of seeing them again! Why didn’t you kill me?! Why’d you bring me back in this half alive state! What the fuck am I to you?!”

I watch as a myriad of emotions run through him and marvel as he fights them.  Would I have been this way if I’d had the chance?  So confused and angry?  He pulls at me as he throws meaningless words in my face that he doesn’t even know he doesn’t mean yet.  He’s not a human anymore.  His past means nothing to him, he just doesn’t know it.  His mind tells him what he thinks he’s supposed to feel, but that will pass in time.  Right now he’s just reacting…and I let him.  I let him flail against me until he finally runs out of words.

There it is.  I see it in his eyes as he sniffs towards the door and I continue to wait a bit longer, letting the bloodlust completely overtake him.  It’s easier this way.  It’s easier for the hunger to completely take control until the mind is nothing, conscious thought doesn’t exist and all that does is the overwhelming drive for the kill.

He releases me and I’m free. Free to settle that craving inside me. Rush forward too quickly then slow so that I stalk the last few steps to the door, wrench it open and there. Food. Fresh. Bound. Terror.

Bare my teeth as I stalk around her then lean down to the sweet thing propped up against wall, her terrified eyes staring up at me. Press my cheek against her hair, inhale deeply and produce a rumbling sound like a purr. Untie her from her kneeling position and drag more than lead her over to the dark mahogany table in the middle of the room. Retie her stretched over it, one arm tied to the chairs on either side of the table. Her arms pulled taut across the dark wood and her ass at the perfect height as she’s kept standing on her toes. I caress her cheek, loving that flavor of terror in her eyes. It makes everything so damn intoxicating.

Press a sweet kiss to her lips, a mockery of an exchange between lovers, and move behind her once more. Rip her clothes off and the shred of fabric feeds into the swirling mess of need and instinct that consume me. Growl lower, pure need flowing through me as I nip a trail down her body until I reach the small of her back then bite down hard. Taste blood and moan soft then nip back to her neck and suckle her pulse, shedding my own clothes in a heap around me.

Follow him to the main room and feel like my blood is boiling as I watch him drag her to her feet and hurl her across the table.  Hands like talons shred her clothes and it surprises me that he takes the time.  She’s food.  Nothing more.  But humiliation along with fear can make the blood so much sweeter.  I’m surprised he understands that so soon.

Watch and frown as his hands move over her more than is necessary and I move closer.  I never expected him to play with his meals so soon, but maybe he’s just a natural.  How easily the human fears and confusion have melted away.  Stand back and cross my arms, smiling at his viciousness until he strips off his own clothes.  What is he…?

No.  Everything inside me screams no!  I did not expect this.  I didn’t give permission for this.  He’s MINE!

Twist her head to arch her neck so I can see the fear in her eyes as she struggles for her life. Her screams reaching that shattering, terrifying, pitch and they’re just what I want. Bite hard into her neck and the soothing flow of her blood down my throat is everything: food, pleasure, power. It fulfills every unnamed need.

Stalk forward, my own face shifting and grab him by the back of the neck, hurling him into the back of the couch.  Then I take the screaming, thrashing mess in my hands and snap her neck without a thought, silencing her whimpering cries for good.  Toss her aside and turn back to him, my eyes blazing as he sits dazed on the floor.

“You want to fuck, Junior?  Is that what you want?  You want to fuck and feed?”  Move for him before he can even think about reacting and pull him up by his throat.  Squeeze tightly, cutting off his efforts to breathe and lead him over to the table, all my promises to be patient long forgotten.  Kick the girl aside and shove his jeans down as I pin his face to the hardwood, my hand at the back of his neck.

“You are mine, Junior.  My Childe.  You belong to me and me alone,” I snarl at him and use my free hand to start unfastening my own jeans.

I’m as ineffectual as a newborn against his grip. Claw at his hand, kicking out and thrashing against his grip, but he holds me down easily. Scrabble at his hand, dig my nails in, clawing, flailing, anything I can to get free. I should have the advantage with height, leverage, possibly mass. Panic and fear chase each other, lack of oxygen, my vision not greying out at the edges and I ain’t gonna face death a second time. I ain’t gonna die. I’m not gonna die! Not at his hands, not like this!

Shove against the table, plant my feet against the floor and try to buck him off, but I’m still held down by a single fucking hand. Scratch at the hardwood, searching for purchase and a way out, twisting side to side, jerking against him. He doesn’t waver. Not at all. His hand only tightens around my neck. Impossible, improbable grip. He’s gotta make a mistake. Gotta slacken his grip… he’s gotta….

I feel him, I hear him tear his own jeans and it cascades fear through me. Shit, shit, no. No! This ain’t happening! This fucking ain’t happening! This is Jeff. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t, he’d never do this to me! He can’t, oh god, he fucking can’t! Thrash harder under him as every moment I’m stuck under his damnable grip only underscores how close I am to losing it all. Rake the table deeply with my nails and jerk and buck under him, desperate to wrench free. Shove upwards with all my strength and fucking nothing happens, fucking nothing. No air to scream, nothing but the presence of him behind me, the fucking air ghosting against my legs. I’ve heard the horrors. Seen it on the fucking TV. Dignity and pride taken away, shame, resentment, rage. I won’t be them. I won’t.

I feel his hands fight and claw and hit at me but he has no purchase bent over the table.  He needs to learn who’s in control, and he needs to learn now.  Slide my belt from my jeans with one hand and then reach over him, grabbing his wrists and bind them tightly with the leather over his head.  Then I grab him by the back of the neck again, pressing his cheek to the wood, now scored from his nails.

“You will know your place, my Prince.  And you will know it now,” I snarl at him, my voice nothing more than a low growl for him and him alone.  Push my jeans down to my knees and then kick his legs apart as I run my free hand down his spine.  Never have I witnessed anything so perfect as his smooth, sinewy skin and I’m not holding back anymore.

Slam into him with one hard thrust, and pound his hips into the table.  I feel him stretch and tear around me and I still for the moment as the scent of his blood fills the room, fueling my bloodlust even more. 

Growl as my legs are forced apart and it’s only seconds before he slams into me. Feel my face shift back and I don’t know why, don’t care, scream in agony as the pain sweeps up from the very base of my spine and devours me in its embrace. NO, no. NO! This can’t be happening! Thrash against him and let out another scream as the agony only intensifies. He can’t be human, he can’t be doing this to me! Why me?!

Knives rake up my insides and every breath I take in only comes out as a scream. No one decent could take pleasure in this, could take pleasure in listening to my screams, could completely destroy me from the inside out without even caring. Scream again and again, but I know with the heavy weight in my chest, no one’s going to hear me. It’s fucking New York and we’re up in this tower, away from anyone. Who’d even run in to help? I’m on my own.

Claw harder at the belt securing my hands, my eyes closing under the onslaught, every movement a torture, every second nothing but pain. Feel the slick wetness sliding down where there should never be any wetness and whimper, my body going slack under him because oh god…I can smell my own blood…. I can smell it….

Hand still tight at the back of his neck and after another moment I can’t hold back any longer.  He’s mine and I want him and I’m gonna have him.  Slam into him hard again, my fangs cutting my lower lip as I grit my teeth.  So tight, so perfect and as I start to slide in and out of him easier I wonder if I’m his first.

I better be.  Or this is just the beginning of his punishment.

Feel his body conceding to mine and I run my hands over his back as I shift my hips to find that spot deep inside him.  Thrust into him harder, deeper, enough to crack his bones were he still human and my nails leave bloody marks down his back.  Never since I’ve been turned have I had this much power.

His blood is an aphrodisiac like none I’ve ever known and I pound him again and again before finally leaning over to taste his sweet blood and moan my desire.  “My dark Prince, my perfect, perfect Childe.  Mine,” I snarl as I sink my teeth into his shoulder and suck hard.

Fuuuuck, gonna be fucking bruised all over. How’s he this damn strong? Shred my lips with my teeth and suck the blood away, ain’t want this, ain’t…. It’s gonna be over soon Earnhardt, gonna be over. Just deal with it and soon it won’t matter. You’ll get away and …thoughts cut off as I twist in pain while he continues to cleave me in half.

Drag in a ragged breath and clench tighter around him cause maybe I can get the pain to be so overwhelming it’ll fade to a throb instead of the torture of skewers being dragged against my insides every time. Claw helplessly at the leather and wood and squirm under him though I know it’s futile. Couldn’t get away before, ain’t no way I’m gonna be able to now.

But then something gets flipped or I’ve gone insane because everything changes….

Eyes flash open when a jolt of slow burning electricity rushes through me and morphs pain into pleasure. The blistering pain slides into the most intense pleasure and wrenches a low moan out of me. Move under him, pushing back into his thrusts instead of away, and writhe as every thrust brings a sharp, jagged rush of pleasure and oh god, please, more, don’t fucking stop!

Press eagerly back against his body, desperate to get more, needing it, fucking wanting it. Yes, yes! Spread my legs wider for him, clench as tight as I can, more more, yessssssss.

My eyes flash open at his words and blink in surprise when I realize it’s directed to me. Sire. I’m his Sire…and he recognizes it now. Pull myself from his shoulder and hear him mewl softly under me…but I want more. I want him screaming in pleasure instead of pain.
 
Because of me.
 
Arm slides around his waist and I pull him back from the table enough to finally take his cock in my hand, not surprised to find him hard and wanting. His demon craves this as much as I do even if his mind doesn’t know it yet. Run my hand over him as I slam into him again and I relish the sound he makes.
 
“Mine. My Childe. For eternity you’ll be mine.”

Whimper and turn my head against his shoulder, trying to get closer, trying to get him to fuck me. I want him to make me burn from the inside out with that pleasure. I crave it, I need it, I need him. Feel him shifting behind me, arranging me to his liking and I don’t care until he’s slipped completely from me.

Whine desperately, arching back against him, I need his touch against me. Thrust into the coolness of his hand and I’ve never felt this good nor have I ever wanted to be fucked like this as much as I do right now. Gasp his name and lose myself to his touch as he slams into me again. Yessssss, he’s fucking me again, inside me. Words bubble from somewhere inside me as I cry, “Always yours, Sire. Always!”

I continue to pound into him with bruising force, one arm around his waist as I hold him tight in my hand.  Stroke his hard cock and nothing has ever felt so right.  Lean down, once again tasting the drying blood on his back and I need more, more, more.

Lunge forward and tilt my head, tongue running over his neck and I smell his…mine…our blood right under the surface.  Teeth graze his skin and I’m drawn to the old pale scar from his previous life and the new one over it that now marks his neck.  The bite from the night before that’s left a mark for eternity.

My mark.

Tomorrow I’ll be covered in bruises, his marks, his pleasure and I could think of nothing more I could want. I need this. I need him. Shudder and writhe more under him begging him for more with the cries falling from my lips and the way my body moves back against his.

Groan deeply as his tongue runs over my neck then shout incoherently as the world explodes around me. Awash in blood and pleasure, perfection. Scream his name and my eyes see nothing but darkness. Everything shattering around me as I come harder than I ever have. Rush of sound and blood and I’m spinning in a world where there is no up from down, nothing but the sense of pleasure all around me making nothing matter.

Bite harder as the crimson fluid runs over my tongue and I feel him shaking around me and screaming.  Suck harder and hold him tight against me, his back pressed against my chest and I’ve never known anything like this.  Pleasure, desire, ecstasy rolling over him, through me, laced in his blood and I can’t take anymore.

Teeth shred his skin and I howl against his neck as I slam into him viciously once more, my own release ripped from me as I shake uncontrollably.  Hold him, crush him to me and I take another deep drink, swallowing his crimson essence until I feel him sag against me.  He’s tired, weak and no longer fighting me.

And I have to take care of him.

It’s more a compulsion than a thought.  A deeply seeded need versus a decision, and I slide from him before turning to face me.  Pull his wrists up and around my neck and then scoop him into my arms as I carry him back to the bedroom, a low purr emanating from my chest as he curls closer to me.  Walk slowly to the bedroom and then lay him down on the bed with me, untying his wrists and pulling him tight against my chest.

“I’ve got you my sweet, Prince.  I’ve got you.”

The cool press of his body against my skin grounds me, draws me back to this inconsequential reality.  Moan lowly and press even more against him, instinctive, primal, needing it. Nuzzle my cheek against his chest without a second thought and rest my head against his shoulder. My eyes drifting closed as I just want to curl against him and fall asleep.

Gaze at him for awhile, the way he curls against me, the way he relaxes against me as if it’s the most natural thing in the world…and maybe it is.  This is how it should be.  This is how it’s meant to be.  There is more to life than pain.  There’s this, and I swear I won’t turn this against him.  I won’t make his peace a nightmare.

Feel his soft breath against my skin, still breathing even through it all.  Reach up to trace the human contours of his face and I’m suddenly not even sure when mine shifted back.  Everything is just, so, comfortable.

But he’s so tired and I can see faint bruises forming on his skin that…don’t need to be there.  The thought comes out of nowhere and for a moment I wonder if it’s my own.  But it doesn’t matter.  I know what to do.  I know what he needs.

Bring my wrist to my lips and let my face shift just long enough to tear my skin.  Then I bring my wrist to his lips and stroke his hair with my other hand.  “Drink my boy.  Drink.  Take what you need.”

Purr deeper, feeling his touch upon my face and I doze. Exhausted from him and the whiplash of revelations thrown at me nonstop ever since I woke. Faint growl as I scent blood, his blood, Sire’s blood. Deeper rumble from within my chest and suddenly his wrist is against my lips, offering….

Shake my head in protest, not wanting to take from him, not wanting to need more from him because he’s already given me so much. Then my lips brush against the welling blood and...I can’t stop myself. Grasp his wrist and bring it to my mouth, lapping at his blood hungrily. I feel it pulsing through me, sliding through every limb and infusing me with a peace, and I need…need so much. Force myself away when I sense my body has received all it needs even though I could spend eternity lapping the sweet taste of his blood, instead I curl back against him, letting another deep purr come from me as I cling to him.

“That’s my sweet, boy,” I tell him softly as I stroke his hair slowly, a soft rumble mingling with his and it takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from me.  I blink in surprise for a moment and then just relax into him.  I’ve never been this content.  I didn’t even know I could make that sound.

Kiss his forehead softly.  He truly is a constant source of amazement.  I expected him to try and drain me dry the moment I offered my blood, even though I told him to only take what he needs.  But that’s what he did.  And part of me can’t believe it. 

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Catw00man & Zippit - nascar_dv@cryptoffic.com