Chaper 14 (NC17 Rated)
Byron watched her sleep and worried. He didn’t know her and she didn’t know him - it became more and more apparent to him as he had tried to read her thoughts all the hours that she’d slept.
Elena worried that they weren’t compatible; that the feelings they had would not be able to survive the challenges of the world they lived in, the different places that they came from. But he was determined this time. Determined to be happy and to make this young girl happy whom he loved. And so he began to plan how he could show her how right they were together.
She stirred in what for her was complete darkness. It was mere hours before sunrise.
“Beloved,” he whispered, “shield your eyes.”
She obeyed, and he turned on the light beside the bed.
“How long did I sleep?” Elena asked him, blinking to adjust to the little light.
“Several hours,” he told her.
She sat up beside him on the bed and looked around.
“Why did I sleep so long?”
“Your body trying to finish healing I imagine.” He answered, “I procured a nightgown for you and a dress for tomorrow. Mary is on her way with the rest of your clothes. If it’s all right with you I thought we would stay here for a little while. At least until we come to some kind of a decision about what to do with Margaret.”
She tensed at the sound of the other woman’s name.
“I’d like that.” She paused, feeling awkward and searching for something to say. “It’s a beautiful house Byron, and it’s in the city. I feel more comfortable here really, and of course I miss my family at Mayfair’s. I’d like to spend some time there.”
There was an edge to her voice. He wondered if the night before had killed the flame inside her for him. That she spoke now of home away from him and a longing for the past. How could he fight that? He experienced a moment of panic, and he was reminded of how much he had feared to loose her to death.
“Of course.” He answered briefly, trying to sound as if the request was of no heavy significance to him, but she could sense his unease.
They sat in the silence of each other’s thoughts. He closed his mind to her so she wouldn’t hear every worry in his head like he could hear hers. It was perhaps unfair of him to listen in to everything and then block her out, but he needed to know how to make her happy and he feared that some fleeting thought would alienate her even more. The problem was that even she didn’t know what she wanted.
She watched him for a minute, noting that his hair had a few dark streaks in it again, his face was less lined. He was growing younger again, with the blood he had taken earlier in the evening. Would it be hard to become used to these things that were so unnatural: reversible aging, reading minds and then of course, drinking blood?
Unwilling to continue that line of thought either, Elena slid herself off the edge of the bed and went to look at the clothes. She picked up the nightgown; it was a beautiful rose color. She’d rarely worn a color that vivid and it made her smile. She began to take off the hospital garment, undoing the laces that tightened it and only realized what she’d been about to do when she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.
She thought about stopping, but considering she was bound to Byron for the rest of her life, supposed she shouldn’t be prudish. She was committed to do it then, and experienced a little thrill at the power that she just realized. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled a little wickedly at him. He was fixated on her hands, which held the tunic up just under the curve of her bottom. His stare bore into the back of her thighs like a caress. It was tantalizing.
Slowly she lifted the hem, exposing herself to him as she did.
Her form was a puzzle of sharp lines that drawn in order with one another made the outline of a woman. It was truly a woman’s body and not a girl, with promising wide hips regardless of her small breasts tenting the thin garment with their stiffening peaks.
She was still painfully thin from her illness. He wondered idly if a few months of being well fed would fill her in. Long lines of legs slipped up into hips that sloped in like a fine porcelain cup. He had to swallow suddenly; the small globes of her rear had dimples!
His reaction was marvelous to her. Turning to face him, she changed her grip on the gown at the waist, crossing her arms to pull it up very slowly over her head. When she shook her hair free she gave him a come-hither smile and stepped toward him. Her heart beat frantically, her nerves tried to desert her, but she had imagined the first time she would be with a lover and wanted it to happen now. Needed the intimacy of it, the recklessness of it. So she bit down in her nervousness on her lower lip and took another slow step towards him, letting the old gown fall to the floor behind her.
Her charms were hidden by a lustrous pile of impossibly red curls that were darker than those on her head, perhaps an effect of the almost see through fairness of her skin. His body didn’t care that she looked so fragile. The response was immediate. Every inch of skin she’d revealed had made his length expand, his slacks growing painfully tight, his eyeteeth loosen from the sheaths of his gums and his heart pound that much faster.
Her slow walk was hypnotizing. He had fed but he was hungry, and he wondered not for the first time if he wasn’t in turn as addicted to the women he loved as they were when they’d had his blood. She was a burning candle, her skin glowing in the light of the pale lamp - a ghost with flaming red hair and frothing ocean eyes.
She stood before him finally and he reached for her. It seemed to take forever for his arm to work to move his fingers and stretch the bone and sinew out so that the back of his fingers caressed one pink puckering nipple. It was nubile and soft like the rest of her and she arched her back to increase the pressure of her touch.
The cat-like posture made his insides clench. There was a battle within him. The beast roared, wanting to conquer and take what was his. It would be wild and rough and every carnal thing that any man wanted from a woman. And he knew that she would cry out and buck underneath him and want him more and more again, beginning a slavery of the flesh as profound and complete as the slavery of the blood.
But the Man inside, the human, didn’t want a slave. The gentle one wanted to cherish and hold and worship. To be the supplicant begging for her grace instead of the barbarian who would claim it.
He looked into those raging waters of her heavy lidded eyes and the flood of her emotion crashed into him and he knew what she needed. The gentle creature within him, the boy, the poet, the lover, slammed the doors within closed against the beast. It howled and scratched but it didn’t matter. He would show her the depths of his need for her and use everything he had, his blood and his body, to heal the wounds that tore her up inside.
All this took place in the instant that it took him to run his fingers along the bottom of a petite breast and down her ribcage to her stomach. Every inch of her was smooth. She was so young and fresh and beautiful to him. The hand that was in control slipped around that too thin waist and pulled her forward to him gently so that she stepped up against the bed between his legs.
He ran his eyes over her again, hungrily. She wondered what he thought of her, how she compared to the others. The heat of the light caresses burned her, even though his fingers were cool. She was aware that her stomach was tight and she ached in that special way deep in her stomach that heralds the awakening inside her. She grew hot and the embarrassment and excitement of standing there naked before him became unbearable.
Finally he dipped his head for that sweet nipple. It was his favorite he decided immediately. Not because it was more charming than its companion but because it was the first place that he had touched her intimately - the first connection between him and his beloved.
He rolled her around in his mouth, careful not to nip her with his teeth. She sent him an image in her mind of him feeding off her this way, piercing this malleable flesh and it almost unmanned him. He groaned and had to release the bit of sweetness.
She made a little mewing sound and ran her fingers through the whiteness of his hair. He was suddenly embarrassed that this beautiful young thing wasn’t going to be plucked by his beautiful young self but by an old man. Apparently she picked it up and began to whisper to him.
“I don’t care what color your hair is. You make my insides melt and run with liquid excitement.”
He wondered if this was true and allowed the hand that had been busy at the small of her back dip forward towards her front. Delicately he brushed her mound, earning a gasp as she jerked away a little. He tried again and she deliberately relaxed into his touch, eyes closing and back arching as a man touched her neither parts for the first time.
She had to remember how to breathe. It wouldn’t do to pass out. But as she stood before him and he gently ran his thumb across the opening of her, up and down the line of her, she through her head back and found her breath coming in hiccupping short gasps.
Elena had been telling the truth. Those soft folds were wet for him beneath their curly bower and he longed to plunge his tongue into them and taste the flavor of her desire. She brought up her knee on the bed between them and braced her hands on his shoulders as she brought up the other one. Cradled kneeling between his knees she rocked towards him, brushing his chest with her breasts - a tease - then away, and then her mouth sought out his.
His hands found her bottom when their mouths connected, she writhed a little again, the gentle caress of his hands against her, bringing her higher. She needed him now, and she tried to tell him with her mouth, her tongue hungrily darting into him to taste.
The more she touched him, the more confident she became, and her hands slid off his shoulders to undo the buttons of his shirt. When she had the buttons undone, she pulled on the tails of it, garnering a little growl from his chest. He released her lips and helped her divest him of it with sure quick movements.
She admired his broad shoulders as he bundled the shirt up and threw it across the room. He was well muscled under all that white skin. It drew taught against him, perhaps a little too much. He had a concave stomach. He was very thin, and she wondered if the two of them weren’t a pair of cadaverous lovers glowing in the darkness of the room.
He read her thoughts.
“I want to make love to you when I am handsome and strong and worthy of you.” He kissed a line from her mouth to her neck and gave her a little nip across her artery.
“You’re a tease.” She whispered her voice low and unusually gravely.
“I’ll try not to be then.”
He responded by wrapping her tightly against him and rolling them over so that they were flat on the bed. His weight was against her, his belt dug into her stomach for a second before knees pushed in between her own, taking his weight back.
She had another surge of apprehension, which fought with her need of him. He looked down on her, his arms to either side of her shoulders, his eyes ranging across the plateaus and curves of her until he made it back to her eyes.
She was so beautiful to him, and represented a chance to enjoy being alive - to explore the world and what it meant to be a part of it. But more importantly he wanted to be a part of her life. She charmed him and she made demands of him, and it pleased him to live up to her standards.
Laying there beneath him on the dark bedspread, her red hair lying in loose tumbles around her fair, burning face was his salvation. Perhaps it was unfair of him to place his hopes on one so young, but everything had compelled him towards this moment, no matter how he tried to resist and he was finished with resisting.
“Would you mind undoing my belt?” He requested with a smile.
Color rose to her cheeks, but she reached down and fought with the buckle that was unusually tight from his arousal. Her fingers brushed against him in their clumsiness and he groaned. It was a sublime torture.
That mischievous smile appeared again on her face as she finally got it free. She had to remember that he wanted her and was weak for her charms. It made her feel sexy and intensely powerful.
“Take your pants off.” She ordered, taking him by surprise. Now it was his turn to blush. He backed down the bed, placing strategic kisses on her left breast (his breast), her navel (and its charming little twist), and her right thigh before he made it off the bed.
She backed up on her elbows until her head rested on the pillows and settled in to watch the show, grinning like a Japanese cat.
“This is only in return for that charming strip tease you gave me earlier. I’ll see you later for that!”
And with no further adieu, he shucked his pants, kicking them away and standing there, daring her to make a comment with his stern expression.
She admired him, curiously. She’d never seen an aroused man before and she had to swallow another wave of nervousness at the thought of its length somehow fitting inside her.
“I’m pretty standard,” he answered the unspoken question, with a little smile playing about his lips. “I doubt we will have any problems…”
She raised an eyebrow in response, feeling playful.
He walked around the bed to her, which made his equipment bounce a little. She became entranced with watching the way it moved unlike any other part of the human body.
“That’s the way men feel about breasts.” He told her.
She had a moment of annoyance.
“How is it that everything I think, you know, but I’m not getting anything from you?”
He smiled at the petulance in her voice. She was on her way to one of her youthful tantrums and he realized he liked them.
“I’m the one in charge, slave girl, deal with it!”
Her jaw dropped and she sat up on the bed and faced him. He crawled up to her, face stern and commanding, though she noticed his eyes twinkled. That little mirth in the corner of her eyes let her know she was being teased, and the indignant anger turned to a laugh.
“Is this going to be a battle for control then?” She questioned, and the penetrating stare that was his reply sent another laugh tumbling from her lips.
It warmed him to listen to it, and finding he missed her touch after mere moments of separation, he wrapped her in his arms and cradled her in his embrace.
“Battle was not what I had in mind.” He answered in that gravely tone that made her breath quicken.
The touch of his naked body against her stilled her laughter. She breathed in the scent of him, a curious mixture of soap and the salty tang of his skin. Her whole body responded, falling back into the trance that he had cast on her before their teasing banter. Her nipples tightened against the lightly furred surface of his chest and she shivered.
She turned to lay a kiss on the crux of his neck and shoulder, trailing her way up towards the back of his ear. She tightened the embrace, wrapping her arms about his shoulders.
He hardened even more at the touch of her lips and slipped an arm down at her waist to support her. They were back in that intoxicating place, yet now everything that was between them seemed to fall away and the world was simple. They needed each other and they would have each other.
He released her and she lay down on the bed, eyes beckoning for him. He arranged himself against her, leaning on his elbow so that he could gaze over her, a leg slipping carefully between hers, his arousal against her thigh. She reached out for it and caressed it, surprised at the texture of its soft skin over the hardness beneath. He covered her hand with his own and showed her how to touch him, to hold him gently but firmly and slide along his length to the hooded head.
He closed his eyes as she touched him, let his head fall back and just feel. Building pleasure radiated from her hands on him, radiating so that it seemed to tingle even in his extremities. His teeth extended, and his body became tense, his breath coming faster as she grew more comfortable and sure of her movements.
Opening his eyes, he saw her concentration, how she studied his face for a difference in reaction. It moved him, and he claimed her mouth again, trying to tell her everything she meant to him all at once.
She lost the ability to think as he kissed her, her hand stilled and he rolled the rest of the way on top of her, parting her legs before him. He followed the trail of his desire again; mouth, breasts, and down until he reached his treasured destination, dipped his head and tasted her.
The sensation of his tongue was startling. Her body jumped beneath him as if she’d suffered an electric shock. Heat radiated from her womb and she felt as though she were melting again. He ran his tongue between the folds of her sex, laving her clitoris lightly at first and then harder when she tried to press up against him. Suddenly her muscles clenched and she knew she was about to come. He slipped a long finger inside of her and that was the trigger.
The waves of it tossed her around against him, her breath coming in wild gasps. His fingers working inside of her his mouth pulling on her, sucking the orgasm like he did her blood.
When she finally stilled, he kissed her one last time and worked his way back up her body, which was loose and relaxed after the release. Her mind was numb but she felt contented. Her subconscious tried to worry that he hadn’t been inside her yet but the contented body drowned its voice out mercilessly.
When he laid down against her she opened her eyes and found him smiling softly at her.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, and gently touched the hollow of her cheek.
Her insides tried to melt again but since they were already molten, it was like a stirring of her insides that made her feel weak. Byron found her mouth again with his and she could taste the musky scent of her own arousal on his lips, but was surprised that it wasn’t offensive.
He nipped at her lip and pulled back to look into her eyes. She saw wanting there and need and she wanted to sooth him and take him into herself. He trembled at the ache inside him, the aching pressure of his arousal, the way he smelled her blood rushing under her skin made him long for the sensation of sinking into her in more than just the traditional way. The monster rose, but it was surprisingly easy just to ignore it.
She opened her thighs wider for him, and he took the offer, settling himself there. He took hold of himself with his hand and pushed gently against her, searching for the spot that would give suddenly and gain him entry.
She shifted a little, and felt the head of him push inside. She gasped, her body tightening again, the haze clearing until the moment was sharp with clarity. Before she could tense up he pushed and her maidenhood gave with a hollow pain and he was blissfully inside of her.
Her breath caught when he entered and she had to consciously try to relax. Her heart was beating a rapid song and the muscles in her back contracted in sympathy at the violation below.
Breathe. He whispered in her head. His heart moved by the moment so much he couldn’t break the silence with his voice.
He pulled slowly out and she felt the pleasure of him inside her for the first time. Her eyes were closed and she concentrated on the sensation of him sliding out of her, the friction starting her up the staircase to another orgasm. When he was at the edge of her opening she thrust herself toward him and he met her, driving him back inside, a throb of pleasure was her reward.
Oh yes she could like that to happen again. She thought, and he obliged.
With excruciating slowness, he entered again, pulled out again, until she was moving with him, grabbing onto his hips in an effort to control it, to instruct him in what she needed. He ground his teeth, finally biting into his lower lip to try to hold onto the control he needed to keep the frustrating, inebriating rhythm that she set for him.
As it built she pulled him faster, and her tightness became slicker with the evidence of her pleasure. The friction maddened him and he felt his beast like an interested onlooker urging him on, his belly clenching with the pleasure of her flesh and the hunger to enter her with his teeth while he took her body.
She shifted again and tightened against him, whispering his name. She arched and it was too much for him, he began to come, his manhood pulsing inside her.
She’d never felt anything like the way he convulsed inside her and it was enough to finish the work. From one moment to the next she went from building up to crashing down and it was all she could do to clasp him to her and rock into him as the last pulses of his orgasm rolled through them.
He collapsed on top of her.
It was ok if he never moved again.
She had finished him.
It seemed like she agreed with the sentiment.
They did nothing but lie there and breathe. Tangled within one another. It was a curious sensation to feel him retracting within her. He shifted his weight and slid out of her making her groan with the loss of the connection. He sent his feelings to her over the link. Love, devotion, an assurance that he was her slave and that he couldn’t deny her anything. That he wished to forever worship her.
It made her smile serenely, and the extreme lethargy of post-coital sleep dragged over her. She didn’t even protest when he peeled himself off of her finally. They were both sweaty somehow though she didn’t remember getting that way. He pulled down the covers on the bed underneath her and lovingly arranged her on her side. Spooned up behind her he stroked her hair and she fell asleep like that, contented and safe.
Elena worried that they weren’t compatible; that the feelings they had would not be able to survive the challenges of the world they lived in, the different places that they came from. But he was determined this time. Determined to be happy and to make this young girl happy whom he loved. And so he began to plan how he could show her how right they were together.
She stirred in what for her was complete darkness. It was mere hours before sunrise.
“Beloved,” he whispered, “shield your eyes.”
She obeyed, and he turned on the light beside the bed.
“How long did I sleep?” Elena asked him, blinking to adjust to the little light.
“Several hours,” he told her.
She sat up beside him on the bed and looked around.
“Why did I sleep so long?”
“Your body trying to finish healing I imagine.” He answered, “I procured a nightgown for you and a dress for tomorrow. Mary is on her way with the rest of your clothes. If it’s all right with you I thought we would stay here for a little while. At least until we come to some kind of a decision about what to do with Margaret.”
She tensed at the sound of the other woman’s name.
“I’d like that.” She paused, feeling awkward and searching for something to say. “It’s a beautiful house Byron, and it’s in the city. I feel more comfortable here really, and of course I miss my family at Mayfair’s. I’d like to spend some time there.”
There was an edge to her voice. He wondered if the night before had killed the flame inside her for him. That she spoke now of home away from him and a longing for the past. How could he fight that? He experienced a moment of panic, and he was reminded of how much he had feared to loose her to death.
“Of course.” He answered briefly, trying to sound as if the request was of no heavy significance to him, but she could sense his unease.
They sat in the silence of each other’s thoughts. He closed his mind to her so she wouldn’t hear every worry in his head like he could hear hers. It was perhaps unfair of him to listen in to everything and then block her out, but he needed to know how to make her happy and he feared that some fleeting thought would alienate her even more. The problem was that even she didn’t know what she wanted.
She watched him for a minute, noting that his hair had a few dark streaks in it again, his face was less lined. He was growing younger again, with the blood he had taken earlier in the evening. Would it be hard to become used to these things that were so unnatural: reversible aging, reading minds and then of course, drinking blood?
Unwilling to continue that line of thought either, Elena slid herself off the edge of the bed and went to look at the clothes. She picked up the nightgown; it was a beautiful rose color. She’d rarely worn a color that vivid and it made her smile. She began to take off the hospital garment, undoing the laces that tightened it and only realized what she’d been about to do when she heard a sharp intake of breath behind her.
She thought about stopping, but considering she was bound to Byron for the rest of her life, supposed she shouldn’t be prudish. She was committed to do it then, and experienced a little thrill at the power that she just realized. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled a little wickedly at him. He was fixated on her hands, which held the tunic up just under the curve of her bottom. His stare bore into the back of her thighs like a caress. It was tantalizing.
Slowly she lifted the hem, exposing herself to him as she did.
Her form was a puzzle of sharp lines that drawn in order with one another made the outline of a woman. It was truly a woman’s body and not a girl, with promising wide hips regardless of her small breasts tenting the thin garment with their stiffening peaks.
She was still painfully thin from her illness. He wondered idly if a few months of being well fed would fill her in. Long lines of legs slipped up into hips that sloped in like a fine porcelain cup. He had to swallow suddenly; the small globes of her rear had dimples!
His reaction was marvelous to her. Turning to face him, she changed her grip on the gown at the waist, crossing her arms to pull it up very slowly over her head. When she shook her hair free she gave him a come-hither smile and stepped toward him. Her heart beat frantically, her nerves tried to desert her, but she had imagined the first time she would be with a lover and wanted it to happen now. Needed the intimacy of it, the recklessness of it. So she bit down in her nervousness on her lower lip and took another slow step towards him, letting the old gown fall to the floor behind her.
Her charms were hidden by a lustrous pile of impossibly red curls that were darker than those on her head, perhaps an effect of the almost see through fairness of her skin. His body didn’t care that she looked so fragile. The response was immediate. Every inch of skin she’d revealed had made his length expand, his slacks growing painfully tight, his eyeteeth loosen from the sheaths of his gums and his heart pound that much faster.
Her slow walk was hypnotizing. He had fed but he was hungry, and he wondered not for the first time if he wasn’t in turn as addicted to the women he loved as they were when they’d had his blood. She was a burning candle, her skin glowing in the light of the pale lamp - a ghost with flaming red hair and frothing ocean eyes.
She stood before him finally and he reached for her. It seemed to take forever for his arm to work to move his fingers and stretch the bone and sinew out so that the back of his fingers caressed one pink puckering nipple. It was nubile and soft like the rest of her and she arched her back to increase the pressure of her touch.
The cat-like posture made his insides clench. There was a battle within him. The beast roared, wanting to conquer and take what was his. It would be wild and rough and every carnal thing that any man wanted from a woman. And he knew that she would cry out and buck underneath him and want him more and more again, beginning a slavery of the flesh as profound and complete as the slavery of the blood.
But the Man inside, the human, didn’t want a slave. The gentle one wanted to cherish and hold and worship. To be the supplicant begging for her grace instead of the barbarian who would claim it.
He looked into those raging waters of her heavy lidded eyes and the flood of her emotion crashed into him and he knew what she needed. The gentle creature within him, the boy, the poet, the lover, slammed the doors within closed against the beast. It howled and scratched but it didn’t matter. He would show her the depths of his need for her and use everything he had, his blood and his body, to heal the wounds that tore her up inside.
All this took place in the instant that it took him to run his fingers along the bottom of a petite breast and down her ribcage to her stomach. Every inch of her was smooth. She was so young and fresh and beautiful to him. The hand that was in control slipped around that too thin waist and pulled her forward to him gently so that she stepped up against the bed between his legs.
He ran his eyes over her again, hungrily. She wondered what he thought of her, how she compared to the others. The heat of the light caresses burned her, even though his fingers were cool. She was aware that her stomach was tight and she ached in that special way deep in her stomach that heralds the awakening inside her. She grew hot and the embarrassment and excitement of standing there naked before him became unbearable.
Finally he dipped his head for that sweet nipple. It was his favorite he decided immediately. Not because it was more charming than its companion but because it was the first place that he had touched her intimately - the first connection between him and his beloved.
He rolled her around in his mouth, careful not to nip her with his teeth. She sent him an image in her mind of him feeding off her this way, piercing this malleable flesh and it almost unmanned him. He groaned and had to release the bit of sweetness.
She made a little mewing sound and ran her fingers through the whiteness of his hair. He was suddenly embarrassed that this beautiful young thing wasn’t going to be plucked by his beautiful young self but by an old man. Apparently she picked it up and began to whisper to him.
“I don’t care what color your hair is. You make my insides melt and run with liquid excitement.”
He wondered if this was true and allowed the hand that had been busy at the small of her back dip forward towards her front. Delicately he brushed her mound, earning a gasp as she jerked away a little. He tried again and she deliberately relaxed into his touch, eyes closing and back arching as a man touched her neither parts for the first time.
She had to remember how to breathe. It wouldn’t do to pass out. But as she stood before him and he gently ran his thumb across the opening of her, up and down the line of her, she through her head back and found her breath coming in hiccupping short gasps.
Elena had been telling the truth. Those soft folds were wet for him beneath their curly bower and he longed to plunge his tongue into them and taste the flavor of her desire. She brought up her knee on the bed between them and braced her hands on his shoulders as she brought up the other one. Cradled kneeling between his knees she rocked towards him, brushing his chest with her breasts - a tease - then away, and then her mouth sought out his.
His hands found her bottom when their mouths connected, she writhed a little again, the gentle caress of his hands against her, bringing her higher. She needed him now, and she tried to tell him with her mouth, her tongue hungrily darting into him to taste.
The more she touched him, the more confident she became, and her hands slid off his shoulders to undo the buttons of his shirt. When she had the buttons undone, she pulled on the tails of it, garnering a little growl from his chest. He released her lips and helped her divest him of it with sure quick movements.
She admired his broad shoulders as he bundled the shirt up and threw it across the room. He was well muscled under all that white skin. It drew taught against him, perhaps a little too much. He had a concave stomach. He was very thin, and she wondered if the two of them weren’t a pair of cadaverous lovers glowing in the darkness of the room.
He read her thoughts.
“I want to make love to you when I am handsome and strong and worthy of you.” He kissed a line from her mouth to her neck and gave her a little nip across her artery.
“You’re a tease.” She whispered her voice low and unusually gravely.
“I’ll try not to be then.”
He responded by wrapping her tightly against him and rolling them over so that they were flat on the bed. His weight was against her, his belt dug into her stomach for a second before knees pushed in between her own, taking his weight back.
She had another surge of apprehension, which fought with her need of him. He looked down on her, his arms to either side of her shoulders, his eyes ranging across the plateaus and curves of her until he made it back to her eyes.
She was so beautiful to him, and represented a chance to enjoy being alive - to explore the world and what it meant to be a part of it. But more importantly he wanted to be a part of her life. She charmed him and she made demands of him, and it pleased him to live up to her standards.
Laying there beneath him on the dark bedspread, her red hair lying in loose tumbles around her fair, burning face was his salvation. Perhaps it was unfair of him to place his hopes on one so young, but everything had compelled him towards this moment, no matter how he tried to resist and he was finished with resisting.
“Would you mind undoing my belt?” He requested with a smile.
Color rose to her cheeks, but she reached down and fought with the buckle that was unusually tight from his arousal. Her fingers brushed against him in their clumsiness and he groaned. It was a sublime torture.
That mischievous smile appeared again on her face as she finally got it free. She had to remember that he wanted her and was weak for her charms. It made her feel sexy and intensely powerful.
“Take your pants off.” She ordered, taking him by surprise. Now it was his turn to blush. He backed down the bed, placing strategic kisses on her left breast (his breast), her navel (and its charming little twist), and her right thigh before he made it off the bed.
She backed up on her elbows until her head rested on the pillows and settled in to watch the show, grinning like a Japanese cat.
“This is only in return for that charming strip tease you gave me earlier. I’ll see you later for that!”
And with no further adieu, he shucked his pants, kicking them away and standing there, daring her to make a comment with his stern expression.
She admired him, curiously. She’d never seen an aroused man before and she had to swallow another wave of nervousness at the thought of its length somehow fitting inside her.
“I’m pretty standard,” he answered the unspoken question, with a little smile playing about his lips. “I doubt we will have any problems…”
She raised an eyebrow in response, feeling playful.
He walked around the bed to her, which made his equipment bounce a little. She became entranced with watching the way it moved unlike any other part of the human body.
“That’s the way men feel about breasts.” He told her.
She had a moment of annoyance.
“How is it that everything I think, you know, but I’m not getting anything from you?”
He smiled at the petulance in her voice. She was on her way to one of her youthful tantrums and he realized he liked them.
“I’m the one in charge, slave girl, deal with it!”
Her jaw dropped and she sat up on the bed and faced him. He crawled up to her, face stern and commanding, though she noticed his eyes twinkled. That little mirth in the corner of her eyes let her know she was being teased, and the indignant anger turned to a laugh.
“Is this going to be a battle for control then?” She questioned, and the penetrating stare that was his reply sent another laugh tumbling from her lips.
It warmed him to listen to it, and finding he missed her touch after mere moments of separation, he wrapped her in his arms and cradled her in his embrace.
“Battle was not what I had in mind.” He answered in that gravely tone that made her breath quicken.
The touch of his naked body against her stilled her laughter. She breathed in the scent of him, a curious mixture of soap and the salty tang of his skin. Her whole body responded, falling back into the trance that he had cast on her before their teasing banter. Her nipples tightened against the lightly furred surface of his chest and she shivered.
She turned to lay a kiss on the crux of his neck and shoulder, trailing her way up towards the back of his ear. She tightened the embrace, wrapping her arms about his shoulders.
He hardened even more at the touch of her lips and slipped an arm down at her waist to support her. They were back in that intoxicating place, yet now everything that was between them seemed to fall away and the world was simple. They needed each other and they would have each other.
He released her and she lay down on the bed, eyes beckoning for him. He arranged himself against her, leaning on his elbow so that he could gaze over her, a leg slipping carefully between hers, his arousal against her thigh. She reached out for it and caressed it, surprised at the texture of its soft skin over the hardness beneath. He covered her hand with his own and showed her how to touch him, to hold him gently but firmly and slide along his length to the hooded head.
He closed his eyes as she touched him, let his head fall back and just feel. Building pleasure radiated from her hands on him, radiating so that it seemed to tingle even in his extremities. His teeth extended, and his body became tense, his breath coming faster as she grew more comfortable and sure of her movements.
Opening his eyes, he saw her concentration, how she studied his face for a difference in reaction. It moved him, and he claimed her mouth again, trying to tell her everything she meant to him all at once.
She lost the ability to think as he kissed her, her hand stilled and he rolled the rest of the way on top of her, parting her legs before him. He followed the trail of his desire again; mouth, breasts, and down until he reached his treasured destination, dipped his head and tasted her.
The sensation of his tongue was startling. Her body jumped beneath him as if she’d suffered an electric shock. Heat radiated from her womb and she felt as though she were melting again. He ran his tongue between the folds of her sex, laving her clitoris lightly at first and then harder when she tried to press up against him. Suddenly her muscles clenched and she knew she was about to come. He slipped a long finger inside of her and that was the trigger.
The waves of it tossed her around against him, her breath coming in wild gasps. His fingers working inside of her his mouth pulling on her, sucking the orgasm like he did her blood.
When she finally stilled, he kissed her one last time and worked his way back up her body, which was loose and relaxed after the release. Her mind was numb but she felt contented. Her subconscious tried to worry that he hadn’t been inside her yet but the contented body drowned its voice out mercilessly.
When he laid down against her she opened her eyes and found him smiling softly at her.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, and gently touched the hollow of her cheek.
Her insides tried to melt again but since they were already molten, it was like a stirring of her insides that made her feel weak. Byron found her mouth again with his and she could taste the musky scent of her own arousal on his lips, but was surprised that it wasn’t offensive.
He nipped at her lip and pulled back to look into her eyes. She saw wanting there and need and she wanted to sooth him and take him into herself. He trembled at the ache inside him, the aching pressure of his arousal, the way he smelled her blood rushing under her skin made him long for the sensation of sinking into her in more than just the traditional way. The monster rose, but it was surprisingly easy just to ignore it.
She opened her thighs wider for him, and he took the offer, settling himself there. He took hold of himself with his hand and pushed gently against her, searching for the spot that would give suddenly and gain him entry.
She shifted a little, and felt the head of him push inside. She gasped, her body tightening again, the haze clearing until the moment was sharp with clarity. Before she could tense up he pushed and her maidenhood gave with a hollow pain and he was blissfully inside of her.
Her breath caught when he entered and she had to consciously try to relax. Her heart was beating a rapid song and the muscles in her back contracted in sympathy at the violation below.
Breathe. He whispered in her head. His heart moved by the moment so much he couldn’t break the silence with his voice.
He pulled slowly out and she felt the pleasure of him inside her for the first time. Her eyes were closed and she concentrated on the sensation of him sliding out of her, the friction starting her up the staircase to another orgasm. When he was at the edge of her opening she thrust herself toward him and he met her, driving him back inside, a throb of pleasure was her reward.
Oh yes she could like that to happen again. She thought, and he obliged.
With excruciating slowness, he entered again, pulled out again, until she was moving with him, grabbing onto his hips in an effort to control it, to instruct him in what she needed. He ground his teeth, finally biting into his lower lip to try to hold onto the control he needed to keep the frustrating, inebriating rhythm that she set for him.
As it built she pulled him faster, and her tightness became slicker with the evidence of her pleasure. The friction maddened him and he felt his beast like an interested onlooker urging him on, his belly clenching with the pleasure of her flesh and the hunger to enter her with his teeth while he took her body.
She shifted again and tightened against him, whispering his name. She arched and it was too much for him, he began to come, his manhood pulsing inside her.
She’d never felt anything like the way he convulsed inside her and it was enough to finish the work. From one moment to the next she went from building up to crashing down and it was all she could do to clasp him to her and rock into him as the last pulses of his orgasm rolled through them.
He collapsed on top of her.
It was ok if he never moved again.
She had finished him.
It seemed like she agreed with the sentiment.
They did nothing but lie there and breathe. Tangled within one another. It was a curious sensation to feel him retracting within her. He shifted his weight and slid out of her making her groan with the loss of the connection. He sent his feelings to her over the link. Love, devotion, an assurance that he was her slave and that he couldn’t deny her anything. That he wished to forever worship her.
It made her smile serenely, and the extreme lethargy of post-coital sleep dragged over her. She didn’t even protest when he peeled himself off of her finally. They were both sweaty somehow though she didn’t remember getting that way. He pulled down the covers on the bed underneath her and lovingly arranged her on her side. Spooned up behind her he stroked her hair and she fell asleep like that, contented and safe.