He fell to his knees behind me, tearing off my underwear. He licked me from my clit to my quivering asshole, back and forth, until my knees trembled. “Jamie, I can’t come if you make me stand here. I’m too afraid I’ll break your beautiful statue.”
Whirling me around, he picked me up by my thighs, resting my cunt over his cock. He held me tighter as I bucked against him. His tongue was in my mouth, and as I sucked it, my fangs slid in.
“ Go ahead and gnaw on me with your new teeth.”
I bit his lip, and honey coated my tongue. I moaned, suckling his lip. He pressed me to the bed and pulled my dress over my head. Jamie stripped, revealing the tight cords of his muscles, then he was over me, rubbing his throat to my mouth. “Do you want me to drink from you, master?”
“Yes, and I’m going to impale you with my cock while you take your fill. Bite me.”
I rubbed his throbbing vein with my lips as his dick pushed at my entrance. I sank my teeth into him, and he thrust himself home. His blood poured down my throat like ambrosia, and I was lost in the sensation of his life flowing into me. His heart faltered, a skip, and I stopped. A fatigue suffused his limbs, and I didn’t want my master to be weak.
“Take a little more,” he said. “I’m going to have to feed today regardless. Besides, in a weakened state, I’m still stronger than any vampire here.”
I flicked my tongue over the blood smeared on his neck. “Do you like it when I nibble on you?” I asked, coyly rolling his blood vessel between my teeth.
In reply, his hips picked up their rhythm and he pushed my leg against my chest, allowing him to pound the back of my pussy. Gripping his hair, I held him to my mouth and bit again. This time I drew long slow mouthfuls, lapping at the wound between breaths.
“Yes, that’s perfect. I want you to come on my cock while I rub your clit.”
“Yes, master,” I said.
“I love hearing you say that with my dick pummeling you and my blood on your lips.”
His fingers blurred on my clit, and as I threw my head back, blood sprayed from my mouth. My legs pumped in the air and I grunted. I came, waves of pleasure rippling over me as my pussy fluttered on his cock.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he said, and nimbly moved to straddle my face, my twat still pulsing. With one hand I held the base of his cock, the other rubbed my clit, seeking another release. Jamie fucked my face while reaching back to dip his fingers in my twat. I moaned and rocked my hips.
Sputtering, Jamie took my hair and jammed my face farther onto his cock. I opened my mouth wide and smiled as much as I could, choking on his dick. “Oh, keep smiling while you eat my cock.”
I moaned with the joy of knowing I had pleased him, and his cock surged. This time, his cum tasted sweet, and again I licked every drop from him.
He fell beside me exhausted. “I’m going to ask Darius to keep an eye on you while I’m away,” he said. “I’m sure the smell of my blood has aroused a few of my children. Don’t worry, there are none here that would be a match for either of you.”
“But aren’t your other children older than me?”
He stood up and walked into a closet. “They were not made by me. They feed from mortals as well.” He came out carrying clean clothes. “Vampire blood is stronger. Darius is strong because I feed him.” He put on a loincloth and then his pants. “No mortal blood will touch your lips either, my love.”
My heart fluttered at the endearment.
“Yes, you are to be my love.” He hit a button on an intercom. “Darius, I need you seated outside my room”
“Yes, Jafari,” it crackled in reply.
“Sleep until I return. You will need your rest.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“Some empty place where people go to be alone,” he said, kissing my cheek.
“ Come back soon,” I said, gripping his hand. When he left, I cried myself to sleep. In my dreams, the statues came alive to clasp me in their arms.
IT’S ALL COMING BACK TO ME NOW
What Is
“ So that's it then? After five years of epic friendship and a relationship we both thought was it, you're done? What about the promises? Is forever just a word to you?” The fight deflates from Chris's voice like an airbag, pillowy and pathetic after the thunderclap of impact.
“ I'm not the only one who made promises, and you know it. We fight too much. I can't do it anymore. What do you want from me, Chris?” Nick's voice is dead, detached. It stings.
I want you to want. To say the words “I love you, I won't leave you.” Chris's full lips form a tight line, betraying him one last time, his striking blue eyes averting. He wants to, but can't say it. The bubble of need fills his chest, but the explosion he craves?to say that which will lay him out for Nick to see?instead caroms in his veins and pierces his heart. Pain mushrooms when the last lingering vestiges of hope in Nick's usually warm brown eyes dies, an emotional detonation that leaves him cold and apocalyptic as Nick's footsteps fade down the hall. The front door opens, and then closes gently.
You could have at least slammed the door, Chris snarls in his head. Endings should be more than the quiet snick of a door latch.
The dotted line looms, mocking Nick. Pen scrawling, it feels like he's signing the end of all things, agreeing to this arrangement though it's the last thing he wants. Still, the pen flourishes with a mind of its own, convincing him this is how it has to be. He stands, shakes the landlord's hand, and passes back the lease agreement. Six months. He sublet his last place when he moved in with Chris, and it feels wrong to go back on that word, kicking his friend out.
Even though Chris went back on his word to me.
He sits in his car, the air conditioner blowing in his face, cooling the hot anger spilling down his cheeks. A hitch of a breath to shore himself up and he drives to Chris's place, boxes in his back seat ready to be filled. He's packing up the shards of a life he never thought would shatter. The dotted line with his signature feels like a divorce, the final necessary gavel. And why not? He'd committed that far in his heart even if they'd never had a ceremony. Might as well be divorce papers.
The gaps in the bookshelf feel like bullet holes, the space in the closet like an open grave inviting him to tumble in headfirst. Chris will have to figure out how to live in his house again. He tells himself it'll be good, that he can leave his books all over the place and won't feel guilty if he doesn't go through the mail every single day. He can drink the OJ straight out of the carton. He never did mind his own backwash.
What he doesn't expect is the empty space where Buster's pillow was in the corner of the living room, or how his head gets cold at night without Nick's cat encroaching on his pillow space. He has to stop listening to music to fall asleep because he ends up leaking tears into his pillow, the memory of the songs a road map of Nick's bare skin, their love life. It's not even his pillow he's crying on. It's Nick's, and he switched them so he could keep Nick's smell in his dreams. But his tears, they'll wash that away. He'll never feel the same way about Enya again. As good as it is to sleep to, he just can't.
Daylight chases away the worst of it. He manages to work. He smiles when he's supposed to. He chuckles. Full out laughs are out of his reach, but he's getting there. He can feel it. Then he wonders if Nick is laughing yet and his gut clenches. The first few times he thought of how Nick might be feeling, he had to duck into a bathroom and puke. So he wills himself to forget the way Nick's voice rings out when he laughs and wheezes into silence when he laughs hard. The crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he smiles, and how his dark hair falls across his forehead, not quite in his eyes. The breathless noise he makes during a climax. Chris categorizes the bigger things
