Her hair, long and blonde and the colour of wheat in harvest, is wrapped around her like a coiled snake. Her face is pressed to the cool cement and I’m jealous of it for touching her. Her skin is pale, covered in specks of blood, and I inhale again, noting it’s not hers. Her eyes are shut, black lashes resting along her cheek, her body curvy and slightly short, but oh so tempting. I can scent her blood, though, recent as well, and as I watch her body stitches itself back together from many, many wounds. What did they do to her?
A flash of hate and rage surges through me and I wrench on the chains.
Who is she? Another prisoner, a monster like me they are trying to break? What is she? I have never smelled something so delicious in all my life, and just like that my hunger roars to the forefront of my mind again. It makes me yank on the chains, my fangs snapping down as I try to reach her, to sink my incisors into her and taste that delicious blood, drain her dry and bathe in it.
She stirs for a moment, her head turning the other way as if to escape me. I glance at the guard they left in here, the one I injured, to see him still pale and asleep, but alive for now. A noise has my eyes dragging back to her, but she is no longer lying down.
She is staring right back at me, her black eyes peeking through golden hair as she crouches on the tiles like an animal, staring straight at my hunger with one of her own. What does she hunger for? I have the insane urge to ask and give her whatever it is.
Scratching sounds, and I glance down to see her long, black nails dragging along the floor as she watches me like prey, waiting to pounce for any wrong move I make. I stare right back, noticing the jumping pulse in her throat, feeling it calling to me, imagining the noise she would make as her blood squirted into my mouth.
I jerk forward, automatically reaching for it, and she pounces. Her body flies through the air like a blur and I fall backwards with the impact, still swinging from the chains that hold me. I snap forward, trying to bite her, but she grabs my head in her hands, her small, delicate fingers spread across my cheeks as her red, rosy mouth slants and comes down on mine. It’s enough to make me freeze, and then suddenly I’m opening wide, like an old habit, an instinct I didn’t know I had and she’s there…I taste her, her need, her hunger.
I feed her.
She pulls, not physically, but her kiss tugs at my energy, the very essence that animates me, sucking it from my mouth like a drink through a straw, again and again, drawing it from deep inside me and absorbing it into herself. Her claws cut into my face slightly, and the scent of my blood only makes her wilder. A whimper comes from her throat as she tries to get closer, to find a better angle on me.
It’s like she is draining the madness, the thirst from me with each pull of her lips on mine, taking it into herself and making it hers with a hungry sounding moan. Her hands splay on my face as she leaps onto my body, wrapping her legs around me to keep me still as she drinks and drinks. I gladly submit with every pull of her rosy, delicious lips as I start to feel normal. She’s warm, oh so warm, and her body is smashed against mine. With each ounce of blood thirst draining from my being, I realise another one is roaring forward.
Lust.
My cock tents my ripped, dirty pants, aching and pointing towards her. Each draw of her mouth makes it jerk and my balls swell like she is sucking me down. I groan into her kiss, rolling against her pussy which is pressed tightly to my stomach, her legs constrict around me like a snake wrapping around its meal. I would happily give it all to her, she can have it.
She can drain me dry, kill me, take all my energy. Everything that I am. She can devour it.
I don’t know why, but she can. I feel a thread, a small, thin one linking me to her and that pull, the one I thought was madness, is back, low in my gut...drawing me to her. Her mouth locks tight onto mine, no longer just feeding now, but sucking me down, each one a line straight to my cock until I am panting as lust roars through me stronger than I have ever felt before.
The taste of her wipes me clean, rebuilding me into something else...something hers. I feel it. Her call now rings through my head, reaching for me in the dark, in the blood lust, her black tipped hand encircling my own bloodstained hands as she pulls me free from the clinging fog and back into myself.
I’m thrusting against her, rutting like an animal, my cock jerking and precum leaking as she presses closer, rocking against me, her pussy rubbing back and forth through the ruined dress she is wearing. My hands ball into fists as I ache to reach for her, to rip the dress away and sink into her wet heat, feel her surrounding me fully, owning me, her pussy tight as I drive into her again and again as she feeds, her name on my lips...
I roar as I come, my cock jerking in my pants and spilling my seed there. She moans, rocking against me, licking at my lips before trailing them across my cheek to the cuts there and lapping at my blood. I groan, my eyes shutting as I shudder in pleasure.
I feel her stop and move away, so my eyelids snap back open and meet two bright blue orbs, no longer black as she blinks at me with a strange little smile on her face as she meets my gaze without fear or judgement, just an almost lax, lazy pleasure.
“Who are you?” I whisper, voice hoarse from disuse.
“Name’s Dawn, hot stuff, yours?” I reply, still wrapped around the man. It was like a haze. I woke up on the floor in yet another fucking cell after they beat me and tried to break me and I saw him there, hanging from the ceiling, waiting for me.
I couldn’t help myself, I needed a taste. I felt his power even though his body is almost skeletal. I could taste it and I wanted more. I remember leaping at him, wrapping around him, and draining. I can see it has taken its toll on his already lean and dying frame.
He has a face I can tell is super attractive even if it’s gaunt and frail at the moment. His dark eyes are almost sunken into his skull, his eyebrows brown and his hair the same colour, long past his shoulders like you used to see in paintings and pictures of times long past. Yet now it hangs lifeless and lacklustre, flat and bedraggled, cut in patches. His body feels frail like he will crumble to dust at any minute and float away, and for some reason that would make me sad. Very fucking sad.
His giant fangs hang over his lips, protruding from his face, it must be painful. Is he a vampire? If so, it doesn’t look like he’s fed, is that what he needs? Bad Dawn, he’s hungry and you fed from him. It’s a wonder he didn’t just strike and bite me, not that I would really mind.
The thought sends a shiver of thrill through me, straight to my wet, aching pussy which is still pressed to his hard cock. Even in the state he is in, he is still stiff and wanting against me, pushing close, seeking out my heat, and I have the insane urge to fuck him, but I don’t.
Yet.
He freezes, his eyes confused for a moment as he seems to be drifting away. “I don’t know,” he mumbles with the hint of an accent on his raspy words, a cadence to them that tells me this isn’t his first language, and I want to know what is. I want to know this man, this vampire. Why? Is he yet another monster I’m calling to me like Nos proposed? Or is this a temporary feeling from the feeding?
I feel weird being wrapped around him now, so I drop to the floor and we both let out a whimper at the lost contact, making me freeze and stare at him...what is he to me? “You don’t know your name?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes going far away. “My mind...is fracturing from the lack of blood. I can’t remember some things, but others I can see in excruciating detail...like…” He sucks in a breath and I fall back with a cry, my hands going to my head which feels like it’s in a vice as images rip through it...memories that aren’t mine. They imprint there as I fall to my knees, tears falling unchecked down my face. I can feel my body, feel the sobs escaping me at the pain in those recollections, but I can’t stop it...it’s too much, too powerful…