Author: applecherry PM
She hungers. He wants her to feed off his blood. She restrains herself, unknowingly pushing him to the brink of sanity.Rated: Fiction M - English - Drama - Anna K. & Yoh A. - Words: 2,725 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 3 - Published: 03-31-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4960260
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
For Lelet, whom I had vented out my frustrations and whims on how to make this work. Thank you for your patience. Dacz, I hope you're not reading this! I'm not gonna be responsible for you; sinasabi ko sayo, ikaw ang unang magiging pasyente ni Maye.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Warning: Obviously AU. Heavy theme. Blood. Dark. Somehow twisted. Mature content.
He wants her to feed off his blood.
She restrains herself, unknowingly pushing him to the brink of sanity.
He paid no heed to her words as he removed the silver chain protecting him, dulling her senses from his pulse. After this night, he'll make sure he will need it no longer.
"Yoh, stop it!"
She kept backing to the mirror. She can loudly hear the thumping of his pulse, the flowing his blood, inviting, calling her inner demons out. It was already killing her but to make matters worse, he took her hand and led it to his neck, directly on top of his pressure points.
He leaned in closer, making his way to her porcelain cheeks as his breath entices her ear. "Let's start, shall we?" An unfamiliar smile graced his face. Her breath hitched.
"No, no, don't! I don't…" He silences her excuses with a faint brush of their lips.
"I don't want to hurt you," she murmurs against his lips. She was trembling. Her demons were gnawing at her, at him. She knew she was seconds away from unleashing her torments.
He took one more kiss from her before he cupped her head and angled it to make her face his bare neck. The young man tilted his head to accommodate and with strong conviction, he said, "I trust you enough."
It started when she was thirteen.
"Hurry up, little girl! You're slicing carrots, not rocks."
"Yes, Kino-sa—" The knife clunked down the table. Anna bit back a cry and sucked on her cut.
Kino turned around at the sound just to be frozen at the sight. The girl kept sucking at her cut with a blank look. Her once coal-black eyes were surrounded with a silver lining, pupils now crimson red.
The older woman stood paralyzed. "It has awakened."
Since then, AB positive blood bags were ordered. It seems she can only consume blood with the same type as hers. To her, it was just like a special type of water. They started with three bags that can last her a month. Years passed by and the thirst exacerbated. Three bags can then barely last a month, a week, and then yesterday, the girl was still pale even with the three bags just consumed.
"Anna, where are you going?"
She avoided his gaze. "The bank's out of AB bags. I'll check next town."
"But it's a storm out there! Can't it wait—"
"No!" She snapped. It seems like her fuse is getting shorter everyday. "No, it can't wait. I need it now." She seems more tired, stressed. He also noted she was getting paler everyday, even with all the bags consumed. She was precarious; shaking, uneven breaths.
He wants her to feed off his blood.
He reached for her to calm her flurry of movements. "Anna, you can always take mine." His words flowed out unruffled, as if it was the most normal, logical thing in the world.
Her eyes widened and jerked herself free from him. She tried to collect herself. "No. Your blood is not—"
"It doesn't matter if my blood is not the same type as yours. I know. Anna, you'll be turning eighteen tomorrow. You need to have it. You need to have me be it."
She was panicking. Her eyes were frantically searching for support, racking her mind for any other answer, any other option that she deems safer. She found none. "How did you know?" Dread laced her voice. She seemed very dangerous yet so helpless at that moment.
His answer was very simple. "I asked grandma." He tucked away a few stray golden locks, determined to talk this thing out. "When you turn eighteen, your cravings will get worse and your physical and mental health will deteriorate. But you have an option."
"It is not a valid option!" Stop it. I don't want to hear it.
"You just need a mate. A blood partner. Someone who'd satisfy your every need. The only person who can supply you blood regardless of the type. If you have, everything will be back to normal."
"Nothing about me is normal! Can you even consider someone who craves blood human?" Anger, pain, hopelessness; everything and nothing in those crystalline tears leaking from her changing orbs. He can't take it.
She restrains herself…
"You are human," he cups her face with a hand, brushing away the droplets away; "you're just ailing from a different kind of illness."
Just then, the dangerous ice in her eyes returned. Her trembling lessened and her panic started to dissolve. "You think it's easy? There's a ritual," she faltered a little at this, "and mate or not, I'd still need blood." She took another step backward, getting out of his reach. She then began building a front, a challenging one.
"Yes, but not as much as you would without one. Your health would not deteriorate either." And he broke her front before it even stood. He reached her before she could even do anything about it. Holding her close, he dared their bodies pressed, he whispered, "I can be your cure. I want to be your cure."
Anna lashed out at his words. "Don't make it sound like that's okay!" Determined as she was to get as far away as she could, she broke away and took more steps backward, never realizing she was just making herself trapped in his room. Of all people, of course she knew how the stake is dangerously getting higher each passing moment. To say she's unstable is an enormous understatement.
When she was satisfied with the distance, she felt her back meet the full-body mirror on the wall. Her seemingly simple feat had earned him conspicuous red marks on his body and his arms. "It's not. That decision will kill you. I will kill you!"
…unknowingly pushing him to the brink of sanity.
The young man didn't blink. In all those years they've been living together, Anna believed she knew Yoh enough to read him with his eyes. Nonetheless, the look she's facing right now, they're of reassurance and affection reaching out to her, but at the same time, there's a distant coldness and edge in it. "You just don't understand well enough, Anna." He scares her. The Yoh in front of her makes her vulnerable, like she doesn't know who this was in front of her. He had her slowly giving up. He fingers the chain around his neck.
She watched in horror as the ornament that was helping her restrain herself slipped off his neck, ceasing their purpose. He needs that. She needs that.
"Yoh, stop it!"
He knows she can her him, feel his blood flowing, hear his pulse racing. It was only a matter of seconds which he intended to keep short, so he took her cold shaking hand and led it to his neck, directly on top of his pressure points.
He leaned in closer, provoking her still, an arm loosely circling her waist, not a centimeter separating them. His hot, humid breaths reached her ear as he gradually gave in to the ever-suppressed need called lust. "Let's start, shall we?" He gave her an unfamiliar smile that was rewarded by a hitch of her breath.
"No, no, don't! I don't…" Her murmur of excuses expired with a grazing of their lips.
"I don't want to hurt you," she breathed on his lips, knowing that she was dawdlingly surrendered to the lust of his blood.
She gave in to another of his kisses before she acknowledged him cradling her head, guiding her to his delectable neck. "I trust you enough."
Her senses were overwhelmed by him. His scent, passion, ache, excitement, lust, ardor, commitment; all she had caught in a whiff. She let her lips touch him first and her breath damping the area before her tongue sliced on his luscious skin and blood trickled out of it. Her demons were unleashed, dilated pupils bright crimson in the dark as she lapped at his offering. One hand crept up, buried in his locks, supporting his head; the other on his shoulder, leaving nail marks on the surface. What she had caught in a whiff was nothing compared to the intensity of what she's absorbing right now. His taste was everything, her cure and her destruction. He was serving not only her demons but ever fiber in her was being quenched. Everything was too much, uncontrollable. His hair was now scrunched in her fist, the nail marks trailed leaving multiple, uneven scratches around the zone as she continued to savor him.
All good sense was starting to abandon her when she felt a tug at her waist. It brought her back, making her aware of the blood still flowing. With another lick across the cut, she closed the wound and her arms slid down. Tears once again threatened to fall as she let her forehead rest against his. "I'm sorry." Pale as he became, he lightly shook his head and took her lips with more fervor than before. "Let's continue the ritual."
He took her arms and let them wound around his shoulders with her hands at the back of his head. "There's no backing out, Anna. Do it." She was about to retort when he distracted her with a sensuous lick starting from the corner of her lips and kissed his way to trace her jaw line before sliding down to ravage the hollow between her neck and shoulder. She knew she had to do it, so she did. Like what she did with his neck, she sliced her upper arm with her tongue and led him away from her shoulder to it. Her taste was intoxicating. So much more than the sweet metallic tang he had from her mouth. This was the substance she loathed and craved at the same time, the liquid that killed her yet made her stay alive. The fluid burned his tongue and throat. It wasn't repulsing, rather addicting. This was her.
Anna then made a move to close her wound, but Yoh wasn't finished. Just as he allowed her to do so, he quickly met her lips and ravished her. The kiss was wild and out of control, desperate with need. He was fumbling through their clothes as he explored her with his tongue. When every article of clothing was thrown aside, his hands roamed south, tracing every contour, memorizing every inch of skin. Anna's mind went blank with him working with his mouth and hands. She was hardly even aware how fervently her body reacted to him, how moans and whimpers escape her, how her hands move on its own accord in response to his exploration, as if she was programmed to do so.
She regained her senses when she felt his fingers play with her nether lips. Her body arched, every orifice blazed desire. She became aware of the fire flowing in her blood and had pooled down between her thighs. His mouth and free hand had never deprived her upper treasures with attention even as he was crafting ecstasy to seep through her pores by his ministrations in her down south. After tasting her mouth and battling her tongue, he outlined kisses to the back if her ear and left it with a lavish lick, he left evidences of his work trail down her throat, feeling the vibrations when she cried out after his finger had intruded her scorching cavity. He went on and scraped her collarbone, imprinting before he went to his next destination. His hand that had been performing on her mounds gave way to his mouth, breathing on them, sharing the heat before he grazed lightly on the valley of her breast and did the third part of the ritual. With her blood, he gained the ability and slit her soft skin with his tongue, during which he had slipped another finger in her opening. It was raw sensuality. He could feel what he was doing to her. He was picking up the rapid thoughts passing in her head, the whispers of her demons to her.
After a few sips, he stopped. He licked his lips and focused back on her slightly opened mouth, tangling his tongue with hers. He delved into her moist cave again and again, all the while her blood streaming down her body. Her knees buckled. His ministrations lingered in every fraction of skin, tingling her nerves extra sensitive. Her blood loss didn't help much either. Sensing her faintness, he moved down and licked across the wound, closing it up. She felt his fingers withdraw below and then rested on her flat stomach. She became very aware of his need pressing to her only just after his withdrawal. She was very wet. Her blood had reached her thighs. When he moved from her chest, she knew then and there what he had intended to do. He's cleaning up the mess he made. Tongue, hands, body; he's using all utilities available to bare her body clean again from the blood he deliberately let leak. She wasn't sure if she would even have a recollection of any of these the following morning. It seems that she was a prisoner in her own body; she was merely just an observer. It was her demons who had her hands buried in his scalp, writhing in pleasure. She was just fleeting in indulgence, in the carnality.
They just went on. He was giving her what she need, so does she, although unknowingly. So when he entered her, her hot sheath enclosing him, the last part of the ritual was soon to follow. Movements slowed down and hastened up, limbs entangled. When they were to reach their peak, Anna took his neck and Yoh had her shoulder. A simultaneous exchange and merging of blood, body, mind, heart, and soul. Their very essence was overflowing. Contentment, pleasure, and satisfaction became theirs.
But it wasn't for long.
Something inside her stirred, racked her inside out. Something was unleashed, lost control, and it was not good.
The morning would find them in each other's arms: the brunet, deathly pale, countless lacerations, bite marks, scratches, and trauma prints all over his body; the blonde, also pale but incomparably clean with only a few kiss marks and self-inflicted bruises, and with a tear-stricken face.
Only the mirror would know the story of the night, of the needing and fulfillment, of the pain and bliss. Only the mirror would have her gratitude, for making her see what she was becoming, in time to keep him alive, barely, but still alive; and his gratitude as well for bringing her Anna back to him.
Only the mirror would know what his eyes spoke in volumes of before he lost consciousness that she was too blind in self-contempt to see: the cloud of lust has melted away, giving way to a love so pure, nothing would be able to smear it.
Even if the mirror has witnessed everything, known everything, had all the answers, the mirror is still just a mirror and it could not take away her blindness, nor mend his feeble will.
Review if you would. Constructive criticisms appreciated. Reasonable flames accepted.
Finished and Posted: 033109 . 2200
I didn't proofread. SORRY! I DO plan to clean this up in the future but not too soon.
Almost two years! Oh god. I did not just do this. Picturing the scenes is nothing to putting them to words. I learned that the hard way. Oh god.
BloodLust © aPpLecHeRrY™ March 2009