SM owns, I just wish...
He stopped at the entrance to his room, slightly embarrassed. "Um, yeah… this is my room".
It was a bright, light space. Clean and modern. I scanned the room, noting a stack of old journals on a side table. The faint smell of worn leather lingered in the air. CD's lined the wall opposite a plush white sofa. Debussy played softly in the background. I eyed the sofa curiously. It was long and very wide, contemporary but soft and inviting. It had no arms or back, but there were at least a dozen throw pillows strewn along the back edge. There was a small stack of books piled haphazardly at one end.
"No bed?" I asked.
"Um, no. I don't sleep" he answered sheepishly.
"Ever?" I asked, a bit surprised.
"No, not at all."
He walked forward then and reached for my hand. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he drew me close, his other hand circling my waist. His eyes were golden and bright. I let him lead me as I stared into his eyes willing him to draw me even closer. He twirled me instead, and I blushed as I awkwardly dipped under my arm to complete the circle. I bit my lip and crinkled my nose.
"What?" he asked.
"I can't dance" I replied with embarrassment.
"Well, I could always make you" he grinned.
"I'm not afraid of you" I whispered, mesmerized but confident.
"You really shouldn't have said that" he growled, as I was suddenly lifted in his arms.
In an instant we were on the sofa, his cool marble body crushing me. He had meant to scare me with the sudden speed of his attack, his unyielding strength hovering just above me. He'd made it clear long ago that he didn't think he could control the bloodlust that was always at the edge of his consciousness when he was near me. Still, I knew he wouldn't hurt me no matter how strong his primal instincts or his thirst. He was watching me warily, his jaw locked, waiting for my reaction. I wouldn't let his fears shake my faith in him. Slow and cautiously, I inched upward until I was propped on one elbow. He did not yield to my advance, his golden eyes smoldering with the desires he wouldn't allow himself to act upon. I saw his resolve and grew suddenly desperate. Tears stung behind my eyes, knowing he would win in the end, like always.
The silent drive home, the chaste kisses on my forehead, the crushing weight of rejection each time I watched the taillights of his car disappear from view… It always ended the same, but this time I knew my heart wouldn't survive it.
I have never doubted his love for me, but the blood in his veins had been stilled for a long time and I honestly believe he's forgotten what the human heart is capable of. I needed him to feel what I feel, to know what I know. There were no words for it, just the pounding pulse of instinct and the deafening rush of adrenaline. I knew he was about to pull away, but I couldn't let him go.
I could feel the panic rising in my throat as I reached up blindly, unable to see through my unshed tears.
His lips were cool and hard, unyielding, but I would not give up without a fight. I clung to him with both arms around his neck, my hands buried in his hair, my body rising to meet his uncompromising form above me. He had not moved an inch since we landed on the sofa, as if he was sculpted of granite. He did not resist exactly, but he wouldn't participate either. He was as sure of his course as I was of mine.
I kissed him harder, more desperate, fighting the panic and despair that threatened to drown me. Finally, I felt the tiniest shift in his body, an involuntary shudder so slight I could almost believe I'd imagined it. And in that moment, I knew the battle was not lost. I would win this fight or die trying.
I was ready to accept either outcome.
My hands fisted in his hair and tugged hard. He held his body like a stone wall between us. He meant to protect me, to shield me from himself. I meant to crumble that wall, and if I ended up broken and buried in the rubble then so be it. I didn't care. I needed to be closer to him and would risk everything to make that happen.
I shifted my weight and dipped my head to find better access to his mouth. As I kissed him again I sucked lightly on his lower lip, drawing it deeper and ran my tongue along its smooth surface. Two things happened simultaneously. I heard a low guttural snarl rise from the depths of his throat and I felt a sudden sharp pain in my ribs as I was literally crushed against his chest.
When he surrendered, he did so with a ferociousness that threatened to completely overwhelm me. We were suddenly upright, on our knees, his arms wrapped around my waist like steel bands. His hold was too tight and I could feel my ribs bending under the force of his embrace. I couldn't breathe. I held him as tight as my feeble strength would allow and waited for the snap of my bones.
Suddenly, his weight shifted and his arms loosened infinitesimally. I had just enough time to take a breath before his lips covered mine once again. Our tongues tangled with frenzied desperation, hungry to devour each other. The dual sensation of his cool lips and his hot, wet tongue was incredibly erotic. I could feel the blood rush stronger and faster through my veins. My heartbeat loud in my ears. I felt his lips curve in a tight grimace and knew he was even more aware of the change than I was. He could smell my arousal in the heat of my body. Could feel the pulsing of my blood as it rushed under the surface of my skin.
I knew it was torture for him, but I was in an agony of my own. It couldn't compare, I knew, to the bloodlust that raged inside him. The overwhelming hunger for my blood that could quite literally end me. My agony was only a human thing. My hunger for him weak in comparison. But being human, I couldn't imagine anything stronger than the aching need I felt for him in that moment. I wanted to consume him, as surely as I wanted him to consume me.
For a moment, I feared he could read my mind as his hands tightened painfully on my waist for a fraction of a second, before lightly sliding down my thighs. He hooked one hand behind each of my knees and lifted me onto his lap, my legs straddling him. I leaned forward, desperate to get closer, my body rocking against his erection. A sharp hiss escaped his lips and in one quick motion he lifted my body against his and tumbled us back onto the sofa, scattering books and cushions on the way down.
He was frenzied now, and fast, our clothing disappearing at an alarming rate. In between the sounds of ripping fabric, I felt his hands and mouth roaming possessively over my exposed flesh, leaving burning trails of ice and heat in their wake. My body was on fire and I tried desperately to keep up with his inhuman speed. We were panting heavily, our limbs tangled and our clothes half off when he suddenly stopped. My heart stopping with him.
Please God, no, I thought, as panic washed through me. I looked up to see him staring down at me with wild black eyes. He wanted me to see them, to know what it meant.
The hunger was winning.
I could see what he wanted, what he begged for without words. He wanted me to run, to live, to be safe. To leave him now before he killed me. I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. I stared back, unblinking, into his ravenous black eyes and kissed him softly. His lips suddenly crashed against mine with such force that I felt his sharp teeth break the tender flesh of my lower lip.
His body instantly went as rigid as steel, and yet his entire frame seemed to hum and vibrate as if he was a bolt of lightening, poised and ready to strike. He looked incredibly beautiful, and very, very dangerous. His nostrils flared wide, inhaling the coppery-sweet scent of my blood, and I felt the first tingle of real fear shiver across the nape of my neck.
And then it was gone.
I did not want to die tonight, but neither would I let him leave me. If he left I would die anyway. Of heartbreak, of despair, of longing and need.
He tried to flee but I held on tight. My human strength couldn't hope to hold him there, but still he remained. Slowly, so as not to startle him, I reached up one hand to touch his cheek. My thumb lightly stroking across his bottom lip as I leaned up to kiss his chin.
I had chosen.
He lowered his head, resting his smooth cheek against my own, as he struggled against his conflicting desires. His cool, choppy breaths washed over my face, soothing my flushed, sticky skin and I took a deep, steadying breath of my own. Gripping his face in my hands, I jerked hard, forcing him to look at me. Then, quite deliberately, I traced my tongue along the bleeding edge of my lip, daring him to devour me.
I could see he thought I was suicidal. Mad, even. But in that moment, it didn't matter. I knew with certainty what I was doing. I closed the small space between us and kissed him with all the conviction I felt in my soul. I felt the rumble of his growl in my own throat as his tongue touched mine and tasted my blood. The power of his hunger was primal and frightening, but I welcomed it. I kissed him deeper and felt a rush of cool air on my skin as he removed the last of my clothes with one tearing sweep of his hands.
My heart was beating so frantically it was nearly impossible to breathe. His long, cool fingers stroked my thigh, trying to be gentle but knowing he would fail. I whispered his name. A benediction, an absolution. He rested his forehead against mine for one brief moment before his fingers dug painfully into the flesh of my thigh, raising it high to rest along his marble back and entered me in one smooth stroke.
The power and force of him inside of me was overwhelming. I couldn't control the spiraling flames of desire that threatened to engulf me. I buried my face in his neck, trying desperately to focus, but my thoughts were too scattered. The surge of lust too intense to be contained. My nerve endings felt raw and exposed, hot sparks shooting through my limbs. His scent, his taste, the slide of his skin against mine, it was all too much.
Perhaps I would die this night after all.
I felt as if I were lost at sea, drowning. I desperately needed him here, with me, but it was too late. He was gone. I could feel him above me, his thrusts growing more wild and erratic as he fought a losing battle against the raging thirst burning in the back of his throat. My anchor, my only tether to sanity, was gone.
I could feel the tension in my body coiling higher and higher, my inner muscles clenching tight around him as he snarled in my ear, his snapping teeth dripping venom over the throbbing pulse in my neck. As my body instinctually arched into his, one thought chanted through my brain over and over on a continuous loop. I couldn't leave this world without seeing his eternally beautiful face just one more time.
Suddenly, I panicked and began to fight, clawing my nails down his marbled flesh. Twisting my fingers into his hair, I yanked and pulled, writhing against the sweet ecstasy that threatened to take me away from him forever. My body was poised on the edge of a cliff, ready to tumble. I was going to fall, alone, my body left broken and bleeding on the rocks below. I opened my mouth on a silent cry and bit down, hard, on the flesh of his neck. Had he been human he would've surely bled. I suddenly felt powerful, immortal almost, as I felt a violent shudder of reaction course through him.
And then, he was there with me.
Without breaking stride, I felt him reach up and pull one of my hands roughly out of his hair, twining our fingers together tightly and bringing them to rest over his still heart. My anchor, my sanity, my soul. With a final thrust, I heard a low growl escape him as he felt my climax constrict rhythmically around him, triggering his own release.
I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, the black thirst already fading from his eyes, the edges of his irises becoming lighter as I continued to stare back at him. My growing smile faltered slightly as I traced one finger along the crease forming between his eyebrows.
He was brooding. He hadn't thought it possible, that we could win this battle without casualties.
I ran my finger back and forth, trying to smooth away the blemish from his otherwise flawless face. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes and my heart skipped a beat. Was he going to lecture me now? Call me foolish and reckless to risk my life that way? Tell me it could never happen again? I couldn't blame him really. I had more faith in him than he had in himself. I started to speak but he stopped me, giving me one of his sexiest, crooked grins.
"That's one ferocious pair of fangs you've got there" he teased.
"Sorry," I mumbled, a hot blush staining my cheeks, remembering the feral way I attacked him.
He stared down at me a long moment, weighing all that had happened. All that could have happened. Then he leaned down and kissed me in a way that told me there was nothing to apologize for.