Guess what??!!
Night overtakes the earth, driving the blinding light of day toward the western horizon. Darkness settles in comfortably enough and though many will soon lay their head down to sleep...some are just awakening. Creatures prowl and track undercover, roam and lurk almost creepily, attack and feed with sometimes unquenchable hunger or thirst, and all under the soft white light of the crescent moon. Owls ask 'who' in the night to the background tone of rustling plant life, insects chirping while the wind circles playfully in the slightly chilled air. Alive with sound and alive in general.
A pair of blues study it all, thoughtfully, taking in every detail and all the stimuli that strike simultaneously. All creatures in the night but not all alive in the night. The undead, a vampire, a being feared yet entrancing to those that walk beneath the blazing fire of the sun. He is beautifully propped against a wall by the window, a picture of charm and seduction to those that both live and unlive. He is that guilty pleasure, that sinful indulgence that one can never stop yearning for, that itch, that pain that you fear to actually soothe because it feels as good as it does bad. His profile is highlighted by nights sliver of a spotlight, which clashes deliciously with pale but perfect skin. He is reflected in the window, a dulled light showing in studying eyes. His long, slender and yet breathtaking form is bare, a feast to gaze upon, a beauty to be taken, claimed, and cherished. To the world his heart no longer beats, pulse no longer hums and yet he stands spectacular in so many amazing ways. He makes the dead of night feel alive, makes a cold and unbeating heart warm and almost thump, and he makes eternity a very sweet and highly wanted concept.
He stands as an eternal being of lust, beauty and love. The dark associated with his kind, of our kind, appear only in shades of colors. In the black of night the only darkness visible is the deep sapphire blue of his needy wanton orbs. What is so widely drawn and sculpted as truth of their kind could be easily debunked by his immeasurable beauty. He is the light in the dark, the white circle inside the black half of a yin-yang and the element that sweetens the bitterness of eternity
Watching him is an addiction I have found to be stronger than any other I previously knew, a ritual of sorts I throw myself oh so willingly into every night. Lying on my side, arm bent at the elbow so it can support my head, I take in, as he does, detail after detail finding I never run out of them. Every facial expression is an essay in the filling cabinet of my mind as I study the purest from of art I have ever laid my eyes to. Eyes, lips, chest, movement...any and every variance in overall appearance is a feast that draws my gaze. I close my eyes slightly and can feel the blood coursing through his veins just as easily as that in my own, can smell the now dried droplets of crimson that spilled out from a previous mark I left upon him, can feel my incisors pushing through my gums and begging for his familiar and delectable taste. I can feel it all, see it all, and imagine it all. I can feel those waves of heated desire flowing freely from his form and into mine as easily as dark red liquid flows from his body to my mouth at my bite. Slowly my eyes reopen only to find his are closed and his head is thrown back, body calm and at peace. I have not the power or strength to ignore the way my body is coming to life just from watching him before me and I know he must feel the heavy weight of my passion filling the room, after all his blood is my blood.
His eyes slowly open and suddenly his head falls gracefully to the side, his blues locking with my own eyes. The gaze itself is an act of sex as we will the other to make the first move, to break the lustful daze pulling our souls toward one another. His deep blue eyes are burning into my own and the pain of him being out of reach is too much to bear any longer. There is want, need and love in his eyes as he stares into my own telling me silently how badly he craves my presence closer to him body and soul. Its heat, fire, lust....it’s hot and it’s never enough.
Their gaze doesn't falter even as he rises from the bed moving closer and closer toward his grandchilde. His movement is slow as they exchange emotions, passions and desires through their locked sight. Finally he finds himself close enough feeling how his staring partners breath speeds up in anticipation of that for which he yearns. Trapping him between the wall and his body they read the words in each others eyes as their individual reflections become one.
His grandchilde’s hand rises up to cup his cheek as a single teardrop gushes from the corner of his eye. In the midst of their desperate longing is the pain of having been apart and the overwhelming joy of being close again, of being safe from all that wished to do them harm. "I have missed you so much" Michaels voice is trembling from a concoction of many emotions as he speaks so softly, his voice barely above a whisper. They gaze at each other, reading until both know all they need to and words are no longer needed.
Their bodies are aligned perfectly, skin on skin, as he leans in to taste his grandchilde’s irresistible lips. The kiss is slow, both re-learning, both exploring in depth and to great detail. Hands touch. Caress. Grip. Tease. Love. It’s slow but it’s intense.
There isn’t an artist out there that could fully capture the breathtaking work of art they portray. Bodies are pressed up against the wall that meets the large window as they are bathed in moonlight. Every inch of skin is bare to be looked upon and devoured. Every movement is intimate. No artist could capture the heat that pools around them upon their blank canvas. No painting, sculpture or sketch could preserve all the elements of the moment in their entirety. A shame really, for such art to not be known and cherished by all and yet their ripple in time is uniquely theirs and that’s all they could ever need…just each other.
Time. Separated. The precious hours spent apart have left them both needing. Passion having grown wild and uncontrollable. Hunger having become even more unquenchable. A connection pulsing with even more powerful jolts of electricity than ever before.
The pair dance toward the bed unable to pull away from one another as they fall softly to the mattress. Limbs tangle. Lips taste. Moans echo. Bodies connect.
He looks down to his grandchilde and snaps a photograph for his long term memory. Michaels legs are spread and beginning to wrap around his waist to keep them close. His head is thrown back as he pants and moans for what he so badly craves. That beautiful delectable neck is exposed and just begging to be bitten. His body is writhing, starved for attention. It’s beautiful and he’s so happy he made it home to this…to his family.
He runs his hand up Michaels thigh squeezing it, as their bodies collide. The perfection of that friction causing them both to moan in desperate need. His lips travel the column of Michaels neck as he pushes a finger inside the quivering form beneath him. He listens intently to every sound, every note that fills the air as he opens him up. The tune, the melody, that each sound comes together to form is intoxicating and beautiful.
When he hears Michael whimpering wantonly and panting incoherently he knows they both can’t wait another second. He pulls his fingers away and wrapping Michaels legs tightly around him he pushes into him until he’s as deep as he can possibly be within his grandchilde.
Their movements begin slow and gradually pick up speed. He hears Michaels breath hitch in the most appetizing way when his incisors tease the skin of his neck and that is his undoing. He has to taste…his mouth watering for the sweet tang of crimson droplets filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. The moan of pleasure he hears when his teeth breach that perfect skin is all it takes for his body to gain speed in an attempt to drive them both over that cliff of desire and into bliss.
Movement is fast yet intimate and the rhythm set is unique and ever so perfect. The taste of his grandchilde still lingers on his tongue as their lips fuse together. Building. Release. Close. There. Yes. Michaels hands are gripping his shoulders, nails biting into the skin there as he gets closer and closer to that edge. With one last kiss they pull apart, eyes locked as their bodies finally crash into ecstasy. The depth of what they feel in that moment as they come down from such a powerful high is unfathomable. Words aren’t needed, they both feel everything, as Alex pulls out of Michaels body. Unable to stand the mere thought of being apart they cuddle together beneath the covers and fall into a peaceful slumber within the safety of each others arms.
The sight that greets him as he returns in the night paints a smile on his lips. He moves closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing upon sire and childe, his heart swelling with love for his family and the fact that they are again united. He remembers the very moment his Alex returned home and the hours spent crying with relief and the time spent in this bed reclaiming the love and feeding the need between them. Stripping out of his clothes he climbs in on the other side cocooning his childe between him and his own sire. This is home. This is peace. This perfect moment is now eternity.