OC Ficlet - Forever - (because in every life, some gay vampire smut must fall....)
Almost three years ago, ravencroi requested vampire smut. I whipped this out in about 30 minutes or so, posted it as a comment in his journal, then promptly forgot all about it. I stumbled across it last night, and just for shits and giggles, thought I'd get back in touch with my goth side and share it here.
Forever
Night bleeding into day bleeding into night again. One cycle of dusks and dawns spiraling into the next, barely heeded, until I‘m no longer sure whether we‘ve been sequestered this way for a week, a month, or an endless succession of years. He is with me now in my hidden chamber, naked, changed, ravenous. His erection brushes mine as he writhes against me, our lips meet. At first his kiss is tender, almost painfully so, then it turns bruising -- or at least it would if I were still something that could be bruised.
Passive I will never be. Yet I allow him to lead, to find his way, to explore and learn and finally take with all the passion of the newly changed. His hands stroke my flanks, ghost across my cheeks, grasp my buttocks, gently tug at my hair. He wants me, every inch of me, wants to feel and taste all that I am and all he can someday be. I am his first playground, his first classroom, his first and darkest lover, and there is still enough heart left in me to wish I could be his last.
“Slowly,” I whisper, “slowly,” as if words of substance and sound were still necessary between us. His silent mindvoice runs through my head as mine does through his, two steady currents mingling into a rushing stream, filling us both with a tireless, insatiable need so intense it threatens to drown us.
Feed me. Feed me now, is his unspoken reply.
I can deny him nothing.
I nod, bringing my knee up between his thighs to press against his testicles even as he fondles mine. He moans both silently and aloud, almost sobbing with longing. My hands frame his face, holding him still for a an instant or maybe a mortal lifetime as I gaze at those frantic gray eyes that want, only want, in a way he swears he never wanted before. I kiss him again, softly, softly, then harder, forcing his lips apart with my tongue. He suckles it greedily, my changling, my love, waiting for my permission in spite of his impatience.
All you need to do is ask.
I barely feel his lower teeth, razor-sharp as a kitten’s, as they tap my lingual artery, taste my blood through his mind link as much as I do with the surface of my own tongue. Then I nip his as well, and the circuit is complete, his blood mingling with mine as we both suck and pull, drinking the blended elixir down in long, greedy gulps. Our bodies press and slide together in an ever-escalating frottage, his leg locked over mine, my erection rubbing harder and faster against his, our mind voices singing an almost incoherent duet of wantwantwantneedneedneed as the blood burns through us, our bodies and our thoughts melded into one, our hearts pounding out a staccato rhythm, until we ejaculate in unison, groaning out our pleasure and pain into each other’s mouths, shuddering together, satisfied yet longing, always and forever, longing for more.
Love you. Only you. Forever. Soft and tender mindspeak, flowing from him to me and back again. I say it with quiet assurance, having existed this way long enough to understand the height and breadth and depth of what forever might truly be, and knowing even as I say it that for me, it is nothing more than simple truth. He means it, too, my changeling, my love, and is too new at this game to comprehend what hungers he may soon face. Will I be enough for him, this insatiable child of darkness I have created? Once he has drunk his fill of me, will he long for other things, more exotic things, for others like us, or for the foreign and intoxicating taste of human blood?
Never, he protests, upset by the doubt I was too careless to hide from him. Just you. Only you. Forever.
I kiss his lips in reassurance, lick a droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth, comb my fingers through his hair. Forever, I agree.
I can only hope that forever will be enough….
Forever
Night bleeding into day bleeding into night again. One cycle of dusks and dawns spiraling into the next, barely heeded, until I‘m no longer sure whether we‘ve been sequestered this way for a week, a month, or an endless succession of years. He is with me now in my hidden chamber, naked, changed, ravenous. His erection brushes mine as he writhes against me, our lips meet. At first his kiss is tender, almost painfully so, then it turns bruising -- or at least it would if I were still something that could be bruised.
Passive I will never be. Yet I allow him to lead, to find his way, to explore and learn and finally take with all the passion of the newly changed. His hands stroke my flanks, ghost across my cheeks, grasp my buttocks, gently tug at my hair. He wants me, every inch of me, wants to feel and taste all that I am and all he can someday be. I am his first playground, his first classroom, his first and darkest lover, and there is still enough heart left in me to wish I could be his last.
“Slowly,” I whisper, “slowly,” as if words of substance and sound were still necessary between us. His silent mindvoice runs through my head as mine does through his, two steady currents mingling into a rushing stream, filling us both with a tireless, insatiable need so intense it threatens to drown us.
Feed me. Feed me now, is his unspoken reply.
I can deny him nothing.
I nod, bringing my knee up between his thighs to press against his testicles even as he fondles mine. He moans both silently and aloud, almost sobbing with longing. My hands frame his face, holding him still for a an instant or maybe a mortal lifetime as I gaze at those frantic gray eyes that want, only want, in a way he swears he never wanted before. I kiss him again, softly, softly, then harder, forcing his lips apart with my tongue. He suckles it greedily, my changling, my love, waiting for my permission in spite of his impatience.
All you need to do is ask.
I barely feel his lower teeth, razor-sharp as a kitten’s, as they tap my lingual artery, taste my blood through his mind link as much as I do with the surface of my own tongue. Then I nip his as well, and the circuit is complete, his blood mingling with mine as we both suck and pull, drinking the blended elixir down in long, greedy gulps. Our bodies press and slide together in an ever-escalating frottage, his leg locked over mine, my erection rubbing harder and faster against his, our mind voices singing an almost incoherent duet of wantwantwantneedneedneed as the blood burns through us, our bodies and our thoughts melded into one, our hearts pounding out a staccato rhythm, until we ejaculate in unison, groaning out our pleasure and pain into each other’s mouths, shuddering together, satisfied yet longing, always and forever, longing for more.
Love you. Only you. Forever. Soft and tender mindspeak, flowing from him to me and back again. I say it with quiet assurance, having existed this way long enough to understand the height and breadth and depth of what forever might truly be, and knowing even as I say it that for me, it is nothing more than simple truth. He means it, too, my changeling, my love, and is too new at this game to comprehend what hungers he may soon face. Will I be enough for him, this insatiable child of darkness I have created? Once he has drunk his fill of me, will he long for other things, more exotic things, for others like us, or for the foreign and intoxicating taste of human blood?
Never, he protests, upset by the doubt I was too careless to hide from him. Just you. Only you. Forever.
I kiss his lips in reassurance, lick a droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth, comb my fingers through his hair. Forever, I agree.
I can only hope that forever will be enough….