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Enigma Find Love
I yearn for that taste. Her taste. It has been some time since i last fed, the taste of dark crimson has eluded me for days, weeks even. I have lived for two lifetimes, seen generations come and pass, watched all around me grow old and wither, then began the cycle once more. A most tragic endowment, eternal life that is, on one hand you never age, never have to endure your body betraying you, never stare death in its face. On the other, you don’t see life, at least not in the manner you choose. A normal existence eludes you, light burns and love may dance around you, but it never takes your hand.
For a number of dusks now I have found myself at her boudoir window, on the outside looking in and craving the sweet tang of her flesh. She teases, brushing her long hair in her full-length mirror, her silk negligee delicately revealing the luscious fruits within, tantalizing my blackened soul. Through the most diminutive shroud of fabric, I can make out her yearning centre, it offers delightful insight into the skin I desire so. It feels as though she is aware of my presence, inviting me forth with every flick of her hair or gaze into my eyes. She cannot see me of course, I belong in the shadows and they consume me habitually. But I feel as though our union has already begun to commence.
Night after night I stalk her, night after night she facilitates such. It is like a perpetual dance, conducted from afar. But not this night. For this evening, she has unlatched her patio door, left it teasingly ajar as she pads around her quarters. The silken garment reveals her silhouette and draws me forth as it does each time I visit. But this time she has afforded me access. I desire nothing else but the taste of her fruits, I wish to run my hand along her arched spine as she welcomes me in. It’s unbearable.
Tonight I shall take her, my blood lust is strong this dusk, the moon redder than before and the signs potent. Her invitation allows me to step from these shadows and enter her room, her heart, her pulsating quim. Do I quench myself within her font? It appears she wishes such, but can I make that decision for her? You see, one bite is all it will take, our union will be complete, but her soul forever lost. She would join me in eternity, but at the expense of everything she’s ever learned or known. Her sacrifice will need to be substantial.
Nevertheless, it seems as though her mind is already made. She lays on her front, scribing her journal and occasionally looking right at me, through me almost. I know she still cannot make me out, I’m fully concealed in darkness. But she knows full-well of my presence. I stride forth, leave the shadows momentarily as I advance on her scent, the sweetest aroma of perfumed oils, incense and forbidden desire. Her head remains down, her entry this night must be extensive as she hasn’t observed any of my movements.
Then she looks up. Has she seen me? Her smile taunts me with ‘yes’ but she appears nonchalant in her posture, relaxed and already aware of the rendezvous. She strides seductively to the doorway and pushes it wide open. That’s my invite, I can now enter. As she turns back, hair swimming around the soft curvature of her neck, she still hasn’t acknowledged me. I know she knows I’m right here but, even now, she continues to toy with me. She saunters back to the bedstead, her thin garment catching the sudden breeze, attaching itself to her peach-like posterior and revealing a jewel of dazzling light below her buttocks. I follow…
Her chamber is warm, the chill dances in the air but doesn’t settle. The fragrance intoxicates me, balms and scented candles attempt to disguise the scent of her body awaiting it’s betrayal. She lays on the divan, sprawled across the sheets, revealing just a glimmer of that beautiful neck.
My eyes roll ever so slightly at the prospect of sinking in my incisors but another yearning is more potent right now. I desire to run my tongue along every part of her and fully relish her essence before I consider drinking.
I squat down at the foot of the bed and place my lips on the tips of her painted toes, navigating my tongue slowly northbound, around her soft heel and up the back of her calf. Exquisite, just the way I had envisaged, she tastes sweet and bitter both at once. As I reach the top of her thigh and choose to traverse the inner path, she lets out a faint quiver, instantly dampening the gusset in her panties as she prepares herself for me.
The dance resumes as my lips, pressed against her perspiring skin, continue their ascent, running over beads of sweat along her fully arched spine and nestling into her underarm. The sweet smell of Crimson stings my nostrils at this point, fills my senses and causes my sex to swell. It presses persistently against the dimple above her buttocks as my mouth begins to move inward and towards that malleable blanket of neck. At that juncture, and uncharacteristically I stop myself. I don’t feel ready to take that bite yet, mortal passion has defeated me temporarily. So I flip her over gently but forcefully and pull her to her feet.
She is now looking deep into my eyes, and I into hers. Unflinching contact which remains that way as I tug both straps of her gown and slide them down her shoulders. It drops instantly and willingly to her feet. Eyes still fixed, I run both thumbs down each side, descending her voluptuous curves and ultimately toward the straps of her sodden panties. I grip, slide them down to her knees, temporary resistance as the material releases from within her labia. Again a faint quiver.
They drop to her ankles and she steps out of them, ushering me back to the bedstead. I reciprocate, looming over her as she lays back, writhing and yearning for my touch. Her breasts are swollen, rigid; her arching causes receptive juices to run from haunch to naval, where they congregate around her button.
I assume position but once more deviate from the trodden path and head back to her now harvested fruits. Drinking the excitement from her naval, I hastily head for the center of her pleasure. I focus first on her outer G-spot, this sends her into wild throes and convulsion. Teasingly, I continue back, towards her sex, nose nuzzled in behind.
She pants ferociously now and facilitates my entry, so I do not disappoint. As I rise before her and slide parallel with her torso, I am presented once more with her lustful gaze. I cannot bear this any longer, I move into her lips and she returns the compliment with synchronicity. Our lips meet, her tongue darts in as she bites at my lower lip. I am now inside her, at first shallow but, in an instant deep within her centre. She pulls from my lips and begins to explore the side of my neck, tugging at the lobe. This presents, once more, the only part of her not yet trespassed. Her neck, it fills all of my senses and my incisors are now at full length.
I begin to suck at the skin, sliding my sharpened teeth along her neckline but remaining discerning so as not to puncture. It tastes heavenly, the crimson is already congregated in waiting beneath her epidermis. It is then, as I procrastinate my decision that she speaks the one and only time. “I accept this” she pants lovingly and my resolve dissipates instantaneously. The skin breaks, my fangs slide in, forcing free her Crimson in rivulets which circumnavigate her breasts and soak into the bed-linen by her thrashing waist.
Still she invites me further in and the blood begins to spray, rapidly diminishing her supply as the color begins to drain from her cheeks. I take only what is necessary and release, kissing both incisions as I pull back to once again look deep into her beautiful eyes. We are both aware that this changes everything, humanity is now for neither, I have taken her from her transience and gifted her immortality. I glance around at the white canvas we have painted crimson. Her body continues to shudder as I slide myself from her sopping sex.
There is no taking back what has just transpired and neither wish to do so. We now have an unspoken bond and have already reached agreement on the ultimate compromise. I have stolen her life-force and it only seems honorable, having gifted her immortality, to give myself to her fully. Thus, we remain locked together as we both await the imminent dawn. Both of us do this of our own free will, there is no struggle or second-guessing. As the daylight begins to seep in through her parted blinds and open doorway, neither of us resist. We allow the illumination to take both of us, searing pain meshed with such exquisite pleasure and togetherness. Cinder begins to fill the air and as physical forms diminish, our dark essence combines to release both of us from our eternal penance. Eventually we are dust.
Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2013