You have let your doom in by the front door, but it will not depart that way.
I would like a kiss. Not some sister kissing your cheek, not some teen back of the limo prom one either... just a nice passionate kiss.
I watch him as he names the last item on his list of demands. He is tense, it's written openly in his body language. The way he stands ready to bolt should I explode at him in a harpy's rage betrays both his youth and his vulnerability, and I file both pieces of knowledge away for future use.
I promised him I would not laugh, and so I don't, but I do not suppress the slow, predatory smile which crosses my face. I arch my brow to cover it with a facade of primness, because I am not a creature of the flesh, the union of cold corpses carrying no pleasure for me, and I wonder what drives him to this demand.
"You should be very careful what you ask for...." I force a playfulness in my tone to mask the real threat in my words.
I stand, and carefully pull the pins from my hair, letting them click as I drop them one by one on the nearest table. I run my fingers through, shaking out the thick waves and using his wary fascination to entrap him into awe. He sits back, relaxing, staring up at me in wonder, as if he cannot quite believe his gamble is about to pay off.
I slide onto his lap, straddling him lightly. I raise my hand to his face, running my thumb gently along his lips as the surprising thought occurs to me that we are alike in that our passions drive us to foolish risks. He is not entirely a fool, however, as I feel his own Presence wrap around my emotions and incline me to forgive him his gamble.
His lips part slightly at my touch, the look of dumb wonder still on his face. Our skin is cool and dry and dead, but as I raise my eyes to meet his, I see the passion in eyes, a tempting blend of hunger and need.
I entrance him as our lips touch, and for a brief moment neither of us can sort the true passions from the Presence, until my awe of him falls away and permit my own passions break to the surface and I vent all the hatred and rage I feel towards my elders and my sect on the canvass of his lips. I expect him to respond in kind, and I am so surprised when he yields beneath my touch that I almost break off contact.
My surprise quickly converts to a fiendish delight and a rush of euphoria at the power he gives me. I let my fangs slide out, biting his lower lip and dragging it through my teeth as I pull my head back. He draws a breath, and I feel the thrill of excitement through his body as the tender flesh of his lips tears violently.
After the kiss I sit for a moment, looking down at his stunned form, and I do not even attempt to hide the wickeness which I know is written on my features. His chest is puffed out slightly and he stares at me, riveted by the sudden knowledge that I know his secret.
...you just might get it.
I watch him as he names the last item on his list of demands. He is tense, it's written openly in his body language. The way he stands ready to bolt should I explode at him in a harpy's rage betrays both his youth and his vulnerability, and I file both pieces of knowledge away for future use.
I promised him I would not laugh, and so I don't, but I do not suppress the slow, predatory smile which crosses my face. I arch my brow to cover it with a facade of primness, because I am not a creature of the flesh, the union of cold corpses carrying no pleasure for me, and I wonder what drives him to this demand.
"You should be very careful what you ask for...." I force a playfulness in my tone to mask the real threat in my words.
I stand, and carefully pull the pins from my hair, letting them click as I drop them one by one on the nearest table. I run my fingers through, shaking out the thick waves and using his wary fascination to entrap him into awe. He sits back, relaxing, staring up at me in wonder, as if he cannot quite believe his gamble is about to pay off.
I slide onto his lap, straddling him lightly. I raise my hand to his face, running my thumb gently along his lips as the surprising thought occurs to me that we are alike in that our passions drive us to foolish risks. He is not entirely a fool, however, as I feel his own Presence wrap around my emotions and incline me to forgive him his gamble.
His lips part slightly at my touch, the look of dumb wonder still on his face. Our skin is cool and dry and dead, but as I raise my eyes to meet his, I see the passion in eyes, a tempting blend of hunger and need.
I entrance him as our lips touch, and for a brief moment neither of us can sort the true passions from the Presence, until my awe of him falls away and permit my own passions break to the surface and I vent all the hatred and rage I feel towards my elders and my sect on the canvass of his lips. I expect him to respond in kind, and I am so surprised when he yields beneath my touch that I almost break off contact.
My surprise quickly converts to a fiendish delight and a rush of euphoria at the power he gives me. I let my fangs slide out, biting his lower lip and dragging it through my teeth as I pull my head back. He draws a breath, and I feel the thrill of excitement through his body as the tender flesh of his lips tears violently.
After the kiss I sit for a moment, looking down at his stunned form, and I do not even attempt to hide the wickeness which I know is written on my features. His chest is puffed out slightly and he stares at me, riveted by the sudden knowledge that I know his secret.
...you just might get it.