by Poppet
He leans on the word fully with meaning. But I end his sentence... deliver... you from evil.
My tastes are not evil, they're just... different. Pain reminds me why I love life, it makes me grateful for the air I breathe, it shocks us out of complacency and the mediocrity of living inside routine.
I don't remember his hair being able to turn white.
Burning hot hands slide down my arms to link possessive fingers with my own, lifting each hand to kiss my knuckles, his teeth gradually peeking out further over the cushion of his bottom lip.
“My hair turns white because Venix left and Seithe became mortal. I'm now the only elder left in my clan.” He says it in a low murmur, as if praising me. It's a manipulative tone he employs.
Wow, his voice fondles my nerve endings, arcing a quiver through my veins. It weakens me.
Deadly.
His tone is annihilation disguised by the warmth of a baritone slowly webbing its silk around me, shutting out sight, making breath difficult to draw, binding hands and bonding ankles.
There's no running away now.
His nearness is intoxicating me. His voice is such fluid poison it loosens my muscles and burnishes my blood.
“Zena, my home has no windows because I'm half angel. When you bring me to orgasm, when my vampyre takes control of my body, I'm blinding to humans. The light we emit is so bright we could be seen from space should anyone be looking. We don't like drawing attention to ourselves...” He trails off, surveying me as if I'm the morsel the minions placed on the dining room table for his midnight feast.
“Really?” I say. My voice comes out in a tremor, and I'm only asking to buy time, to get my wits and attitude back to front and center.
“Look at the floor, not at me.”
“Jesus, into domination much, master?” I say with sarcasm.
He aggressively grips my head and pivots it on my neck, “When I say look down it's in your own best interest not to argue but to comply. If you like your sight learn to follow instructions.”
And with these words drawled with derision as if he's chastising a child for being naughty, the tiles under my feet instantly become so bright with reflected light it makes my eyes water and dark spots react across my vision with the frenzy of an epileptic fit.
Okay then, look away when he unleashes his inner angel.
Stunned, squeezing my eyelids tightly together, I'm worried the blurring tears will ruin my make-up.
“I prefer you without it,” he whispers into my ear, like a familiar lover complimenting me.
The merciless grasp of his fingers on my head morphs into a caress to trace down my nape and between my shoulder blades. Attraction frisks the skin where his fingertips paint and I'm reacting to his capricious moods.
He's a walking contradiction. Half angel, half not. Clearly one half is much darker than the light he just used to silence me.
I'm fighting an internal war between awe and cautious respect. The tone he used returned to husky seduction, and I struggle to meet his now brown eyes. His hair remains white this time and while I'm focusing his wide captivating eyes turn to iceberg blue.
“Blue?” I swallow with difficulty against the confusion and fascination.
I thought I knew the vampyres, I was obviously deluded or blatantly misinformed.
“Yes blue, it's me in vampyre dominant form. The only time you can call me human is when my eyes and hair are brown. When my eyes shine silver it's because I'm trying very hard not to let the passion of my inner vampyre come out to play hide and seek with you.”
When he mentions passion in that foreign accent, it flows through me like a tidal wave, washing over my head and forcing suffocation up my nose.
Giddy, I teeter unsteadily, still finding my ability to focus challenging with his home draped in muted shadows which barely cast light on the white of everything in here.
Including what looks to be a white marble polished block serving as a coffee table.
He snaps a finger in front of my nose, “Romance.”
A solitary candle ignites to dancing life in the center of the coffee table, casting a warmth over his half naked body and into his hair.
The music changes to melodic harmonies which are barely audible, and he's presenting me with a white Casa Blanca lily. The fragrance is strongly overpowering and heady. Touched by his unpredictable thoughtfulness, I clasp it, receiving a jolt of manifesting desire when our fingers connect.
“Are you ready for combat, Zena?” It's a whisper sent to cocoon on my lips. He's bending over me so his head reaches my mouth and I'm succumbing to the amorous liquid starlight in his eyes.
My god he's glorious.
“Half angel, it's a given.” I sense his smile rather than see it.
He's so close that my heartbeat is deafening my ears. His breath is so hot, so impossibly incinerating, it matches the molten sorcery of his eyes.
Scorching heat radiates off the skin of his chest directly in front of me, and it warms me, stealing oxygen the way a flame does, forcing me to inhale with the instant constriction in my lungs.
The opening of my lips is stolen by a gentle mouth.
His kiss infuses my body back into the wanton state I'd misplaced on our journey here. The sensation of his strong hands on my body floods back when long teeth dig inside my lip while he accosts my tongue with his own.
Combat? Will it hurt?
He removes the flower from my grasp, snapping the stem and tucking the blossom behind my ear.
“Gorgeous,” exhales over my face like a blessing from his father in heaven.
An immaculate physique tenses, and I sense the danger emanating off him now when he closes his arms around me to pull me close.
Anticipation spirals my perception into a crazed swirl.
His head drops lower and long teeth pierce the fabric of my shirt, going right through my black lace bra, needling deep into my breast and chasing wildfire out in every direction.
It's such a shock my body explodes with volcanic shrapnel.
His strength has me locked in the vice of his hands and arms, and I can't flinch. Helpless, I inhale the dry desert cologne in his hair, bathing its shriveling parch into my pores, boring into me the way his mouth claims not just my skin, but my blood; my life.
My knees wobble with the potion pouring into my bloodstream and his mouth is ready when I sway, losing my strength with my head lolling back, my moan is caught with a red tongue and lips tarnished with my blood.
He drips the elixir onto my taste buds, riding pressure into my lips and ransacking my mouth. Sliding his tongue provocatively over my own he grips my body tighter to feel the hardness contained inside his leather jeans.
Oh god. I can't focus when he ends the kiss and allows me to breathe. Desire is crippling me, it's so immediate and overwhelming my new underwear is being drenched from the inside out.
“Yes it will hurt, in the best possible way,” he says.
The energy he's giving off is resolute and unyielding. He's committed to this moment and it cloaks his charisma with assertive authority.
This is my fantasy. I've always wanted to be taken this way. Lulled into the haven, torn into by the monster, having a soul infusion while he drinks my blood and splinters my sanity with bliss no human can fathom.
The preternatural power he exudes strips me of my will to fight. I've longed for this darkness because I believe it's only in darkness we are free to truly worship light.
He is light, he is darkness, and the thought of him worshipping and claiming me is beyond tempting. It's a secret manifesting from my childhood, grown into a dissatisfaction with humans and life. I came back to Darise because I've had enough of human fallibility and fragility. We are flawed, we're insufficient and substandard as a species. It's painful to breathe, to wake each and every fucking day to the same destiny.
Jowendrhan's glinting pearl glance tailgates my attention. Subpoenaed by the lust and glowing power in his eyes, I drift closer to m
ental asphyxiation.
I'm ready. I was born ready, biding time impatiently for this moment to finally bless my world and grant me mercy.
Supported with his strength, I don't resist when my buttons open and he stares at my nipples with his eyes flaring in hunger.
I feel drugged, high, feverish.
A low chainsaw inhalation tingles my nerves and shivers my skin. His hand waves over me like an artist ready to draw, but then the air moves and I become aware that he simply removed my clothes.
His wicked mouth lowers again as he lifts me into his arms, forcing my nipple into his mouth to flick it with harsh nips of a blistering tongue, then breathing on it so it tightens, to razor his long vampire teeth over it.
Jesus!
The effect has my sex throbbing and spitting. My stomach is writhing with wistful anxiety.
I'm debilitated with desire.
Strong hands maneuver me, lifting and holding me tightly to his chest as he turns to wide open doors,
Simultaneously every light in his home snuffs to secretive darkness. Only the music remains to witness my betrayal.
I'm snared inside the muscular penitentiary of his embrace.
He's as naked as I am and I'm indulging in the silk of his skin under my cheek. It matches the silken danger of his voice. It's an assassin wrapped in seduction, in every nuance and action.
I know he's deadly, and it makes me thrum and hum from my swollen sex to the pulse in my throat fluttering and bashing in bipolar chaos.
Lowered onto softness, I moan when his hands hold my knees obstinately akimbo, leaning his weight on my legs to butterfly my limbs and expose the lust heating and tingling with anticipation for him.
My heart begins thumping like I'm under attack when he lowers his head, his glowing eyes the only indicator of his motion. It's a lighthouse on a ruthless sea. It calls to my soul with its twinkle and predatory glare.
Breath skates over my pubic bone and I tug on his hair when I run my fingers into the short softness of it, guiding him closer.
Take me. Make me scream. Let me float on the cloud of your ecstasy.
Demanding fingers grip my wrists and hold me down, keeping me still. The sublime language of impending aggression charges my body with adrenaline.
He breaks through the skin above my pubis; it burns and snakes toxins directly into my veins, spreading magefire magic into my womb, widening and sending roaring rage into my sex so it beats with a needy pulse of its own.
Sipping from my body his tongue rubs over and into me, licking my lust and catching my blood, drinking in every drop of nectar my body can offer him.
Trembling, my fingers gripped so tight into the linen of this bed in the ink dark mystery of his home, I'm shameless when the euphoria flows through me, making me croon and gasp with the delightful sensations chasing into me.
His hands tighten around my wrists, pushing me into the folds of the bed when he leans his weight onto them, giving me no warning when he slams the hot shaft of his erection deep inside me, sliding over blood and musk, lubricated with the coalescing desire he's been flooding into my core with his elemental bite.
It shocks me; breaks my breath clear in two and sends my awareness into spiraling dizziness.
His fingers release my wrists and a violent pressure commands my chin to the side, exposing my throat. With him hard in me and forcing himself ever deeper, my thighs burn with the effort of being so wide apart. Slowly he withdraws to slam his body into mine again, timing it to the claiming of my throat with two long vicious and cruel fangs.
Clinging to his wide back, my fingernails dig in trying to find purchase, an anchor, some reprieve from the burning hurting pleasure of him, the ache in my neck changes to raw unfiltered contraband.
It's so delicious and decadent I literally feel my heartbeat lull under the false haven of the lotion from his body channeling into mine.
Punching into me, pumping me further and further across the bed, every pound of his sex into my own brings me closer to the bottomless well of cracked sanity and charmed orgasm.
Groaning, the world seems so far away; all I can feel is his pulsating hard body icing up and down my nerve endings, making them tingle and throb and sear and blast sparks of treasure into my nipples. He's immaculate, teasing my arousal and aching need. How he knew I like to fuck like a porn star I'll never know, but I'm grateful for the torture.
The lips on my neck pinning me down with long teeth is where the real pleasure hides, filtering directly into my brain and down my spinal column, burning my veins with scalding seraphic sex. It is sex. It's the hormone of obliterating pleasure which is sent into me like a venomous toxin from a viper with a vendetta.
Injected with passion, I quiver and clamp around every one of his muscles with my long sigh of undoing.
He's angelic and evil. He's pleasure and pain. He's hard and oddly soft. He's danger and seduction. He's death and he's salvation.
Shattered, shuddering without control, I crest waning waves with my head feeling like I'm hanging upside down on a merry-go-round. I can't focus and am utterly incoherent.
The teeth extract from my neck and then clenched muscles coil tighter as he dives his sex harder and deeper than I thought possible.
It reaches for my heart when he widens in orgasm, making me tense and pray for fear of being irrevocably broken.
In that moment I am completely blind. It passes momentarily and gloomy shadows slowly come back into shifting focus.
His breathing isn't even labored when he moves into my line of vision, shining two diabolical spotlights into my eyes when he stares at me, illuminating his long teeth and red lips as if with ultraviolet light.
He reaches for my hands again, holding them tightly together in one hand, giving me a shadow shrouded stare of speculation.
Does he want to be mortal too? Like Darise?
“No, I don't. I choose to be immortal, forever. Zena, let me turn you. I'm the last of my kind. You can be my future.”
It's spoken with such adoration and sensitivity that my immediate reaction is consent. The temptation is arousing me further.
“I didn't think you could turn humans.” My voice comes out dreamy and my limbs are vibrating uncontrollably now.
“We can, we just never have. We've never needed to.”
I quite like the idea of being immortal, a vampire. “I thought your sister had to do it?”
I remember Darise telling me that, and then instantly regretting it. That was the turning point for us. As if by telling me that, he burned the bridge to our future. That's when the inferno died and I ran away to hide my broken heart from his all-knowing mind.
“She has fallen from grace. Only I have the power now,” says Jowendrhan in chilling huskiness.
I understand when he says it. As he says power it flows into me like a flood of wonder floating on a foaming wave of sizzling potency. It recharges my body, makes me alert, and instantly I don't hurt.
“You can heal, manifest, transport, you can and will be my equal.”
And I can have this sex for the rest of forever.
“Say yes,” he whispers, resting the request like sinkers onto my lips as he arches over me and seems to hover there.
In a blink we're floating in the room, even my hair is wafting next to me because it tickles in my neck.
“Yes.”
I want it. I really want it!
Immediately dropped back onto pliable bedding, he impales me with the thick slicked muscle of his sex and shakes like he's being electrocuted, purging scalding heat into me, through me. I'm overwhelmed with it.
I feel as if my very soul is being violated.
Slumping on me before catching his weight and bracing back up, he gasps in my ear, “That was a free will choice you made. There's just one catch, but as I had your permission I took the liberty to go ahead in sealing our deal without full disclosure.”
Sliding out of me, his hand covers my breast and snips my nipple between finge
rtips, leaning in to bite my bottom lip.
It's bewitching and erotic when he licks the pooling sanguine button off it.
His aggression turns me on, badly.
I'm moved and manipulated while his voice wraps a cloak around me in the dark, and I still feel potent, safe, and yet in incredible danger. It's a heady aphrodisiac.
“Sex is one thing, but you have never had a vampyre play your spine.” I wait, my skin prickling with anticipation.
“But first,” he softly continues, with threat heavy in his tone. “This is for me.”
Lifting me by holding my sex in his cupped hand, his incisors score two ridges down my back, cutting through skin and burning me with the sting of a white-hot poker. My body goes into pain overdrive while he inhales ominously with my scream.
“Adrenaline turns us on, pain produces lots of it,” mumbles in my ear from behind, laced with approval and pleasure.
He's clearly mad. God, I'm violently shaking because the pain is so severe, it burns like a scorpion sting, and yet he praises me and makes it sound like I just made him so proud for being blindsided with total agony.
As if he'd read my mind, leather cords manifest on his hand and he winds them with deliberate slowness around my wrist as they unravel from his. It binds me to the thick metal filigree of the headboard.
In shadowed stealth he does the same to the other, with increments of tension increasing around my veins and fragile bones. A blindfold is unnecessary in the complete absence of light in this room.
And then he's in me, forcing the logic clear from my mind, fissuring it wide open for his penetration; my pounding point of pleasure is pinched and rubbed, his teeth claiming my skin again while he rips through me with an unholy orgasm, crying out and bunching his muscles like a straightjacket around me, hurting me and leaving me quaking with wild endorphins of pleasure and pain. It's brutal and punishing and so completely primeval that it unfurls the sadist I thought I'd repressed.
I like it, a little too much.
“I had no clue. Did Darise really do it for you Zena?” he saws deep and gruff into my ear, his fingers like biting metal chains holding my hips hostage.
