by Kallysten
“I love you.”
Her hands slid off his shoulders and down his arms to link their fingers together. They remained like that, eyes locked and barely touching, yet entirely aware of each other for a few moments longer. They finally moved at the same time, Owen raising his head and Lydia letting go of his right hand. Hand in hand, without needing to talk, they left the circle of paintings and walked up the wide, stone staircase to the upper floor. Owen opened the bedroom door, and she preceded him inside without letting go of his hand.
The lamp on the night table cast a muted light on the room, softening the angles of the stark, wooden furniture. The comforter that usually covered the bed had been drawn back, revealing dark blue sheets that had the sheen of fine cotton. The four-poster king-sized bed always struck her as too large at first glance, but it fit the generous proportions of the room and the large wardrobe against the wall. A second wardrobe, made of the same dark wood, now stood against the opposite wall. Once again, she could only wonder how sure he had been of her answer, but that didn’t matter anymore.
They took their time undressing each other, wordlessly acknowledging that there was no reason to rush. With each item of clothing that fell under her hands or his, they stopped and caressed the newly exposed flesh with fingertips and lips, each of them trembling in turn under the other’s ministrations. When, at last, they stood naked in front of each other, Owen’s cock jutted out proudly in front of him, the wet tip brushing against her stomach. She laid a hand on it, cradling it in her palm, and pressed their bodies together until it was trapped between them. She kissed his collarbone with soft, delicate kisses that led to his shoulder. From there, she licked a path back toward his throat, stopping only when she could feel the raised scars at the crook of his neck.
Attentive to his every reaction, she did what she had been too shy to dare until that night: she raked her teeth gently against the scars. Owen’s hand flew to the back of her head, and for a second she thought he would stop her. Instead, his hand just rested there, holding her to him as he trembled against her.
When she raised her head again, his pupils were fully dilated and staring at her as though for the first time. He picked her up in his arms, and she let out a little yelp of surprise. He climbed into the bed with her, depositing her in the center of it and lying by her side. She turned toward him, and they started kissing again, small pecks while their hands slid over the curve of a hip or against a hardened nipple.
“Did it… did it feel good?” She stroked the scars with the tip of her index finger. “When I kissed there?”
He hummed and pressed his body harder against hers until she rolled onto her back. “Better than good,” he purred and kissed the corner of her mouth before flicking the tip of his tongue against her lips.
She had more questions, but as she drew him to lie between her thighs, she decided they could wait. She would probably find an answer to some of them soon anyway.
They kissed again, their growing need making the kiss a little sloppier—and a lot harsher. Owen’s cock was pressing into her thigh while her hands roamed against his back, her fingertips leaving trails that would be gone before morning.
His lips left hers and trailed a soft path from her chin to her ear, then down her neck. The caress was so elusive that at times she wasn’t even sure she could feel it. Then he kissed the crook of her neck, and she tensed. This was it. This was where he would bite. He was going to do it now. He was—
“Shh…” He shifted and kissed her temple, then her eyelids, and the tip of her nose. “Relax. Not yet.”
She looked questioningly at him, and he replied, “I want your warmth one last time. Is that all right?”
She breathed a quiet, “Yes,” against his lips, but rather than kissing her, he lowered his head to her chest. His mouth slid down the valley between her breasts as though unable to choose one over the other, but finally climbed back up toward her left nipple. She tensed, waiting for the first touch of his lips against the puckered areola, and practically jumped in surprise when the expected caress was delayed while he brushed his thumb against her clit. Her movement brought her nipple to his mouth, and he latched on to it, making her jump a second time.
The combined pressures of his mouth and thumb gradually increased until she was gasping for breath and trashing beneath him, but he used his weight to hold her down while he continued to over-stimulate her clit and nipple.
“Too much,” she gasped. “I can’t…”
She couldn’t finish, instead letting out a low moan. It was too much, yes, but at the same time she was so close… Her entire body was tensing as she reached for her orgasm and—
Owen’s mouth lifted from her breast at the same instant his thumb stopped moving, simply resting against her throbbing clit. “Too much?” he repeated, with more than a hint of teasing in his voice. “Want me to stop?”
She answered before she even knew it. “No!”
With a low chuckle, Owen descended on her right breast and quickly made up for its neglect. His thumb, meanwhile, was still immobile, and despite her efforts, Lydia couldn’t manage to rock her hips to increase the pressure.
“Owen, please,” she moaned and was rewarded when two of his fingers slipped inside her wet channel and his thumb pressed against her clit once more. The suction of his lips, the barest hint of teeth, the soothing coolness of his tongue, his fingers curling just so, and his thumb pressing yet a little harder… Pleasure grew inside Lydia until she felt she would burst.
A keening wail erupted from her throat. Her body went completely rigid for a second, then started shaking as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. Far from stopping, Owen redoubled his efforts. Just as the first orgasm started fading, a second one crashed through her, stealing her breath and making her vision go black for an instant. Still shaking, she clutched at his shoulders and pulled him up her body until she could press frantic kisses to his face.
“Enter me,” she asked, almost begged. “I need to feel you. Now. Please.”
His hand moved between them, and she arched her hips to help him find his way. When the slick tip of his cock brushed against her entrance without penetrating her, she thought he was teasing her. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, however, and his brow furrowed, revealing his frustration. Sneaking a hand down to join his, she stroked his cock before guiding it to where she wanted him. The tip slid in torturously slowly, and he remained like that for an instant, his eyes seeking hers. When their gazes met, he thrust his hips to meet hers, and his cock, pushed all the way in.
She let out a quiet gasp, then a louder one when, on his next thrust, his cock slid in just a little deeper, and on the next one again, or so it seemed. Each snap of his hips was accompanied by the sound of flesh on flesh, but Lydia barely heard it. The harshness of her own breathing and the increasingly loud moans pulled from her throat filled her ears.
Her hands were clenched tight on Owen’s shoulders, and it didn’t occur to her to touch him or caress him; all she could do was hold on, and even that, as Owen slowly increased his tempo, was becoming harder and harder. She wanted to come again, but so soon after her orgasm, pleasure was unattainable, and its distance was laced with pain.
Trying to get a grip on herself, she scrunched her eyes. Almost right away, Owen stopped moving inside her, although judging by the way he shook, it was taking all his self-control.
“Lydia… look at me, love.”
She did and discovered worry etched on his features. She tried to smooth it away with her fingertips.
“You can still change your mind, you know.” His words shook with his need and desire. Which of her body or blood did he want most, she wondered briefly, the thought forgotten as soon as it had come. “Nothing says—”
“No.” She word came out as a rasping noise. “I want you to. Do it. Do it now.”
Nodding, he reached for her right leg and guided it higher on his waist, before doing the same thing with her left leg.
“Hold on,” he said, and she tightened her arms and legs around him. He lifted her off the bed, a hand pressed to her back and the other pushing his upper body up until he was sitting on the bed, his cock buried deep inside Lydia, their bodies closer than before in this sweet embrace.
In this position, he couldn’t really thrust into her anymore, but he shifted his hips while she rested her hands on his shoulders to lift herself up and slide down onto his cock. They fell into a rhythm that made fire run through Lydia, turning all of her nerves ablaze wherever they touched, inside and out. She was panting, and she realized with a flash of surprise that Owen was, too. She had made him forget he didn’t need to breathe. She buried a burst of happy laughter into the crook of his neck, tightening her hold on him. He was trembling against her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how close he was.
She pulled back to look at his eyes. They were mere slits and feverish, but they were focused entirely on her. She forgot to move under the intensity of his stare, and could only sit there, with her arms and legs around him, his cock moving inside her, and ask herself—what had she done to deserve the love of such a wonderful man?
His movements slowed down, although he was still trembling just as much. He swallowed heavily and licked his lips before asing, his voice rough with passion, “Are you sure? I swear I wouldn’t be—”
“If you keep asking,” she cut in, softening the interruption with a half-smile, “I’ll start thinking you don’t want to do it anymore.”
Something lit up in his eyes, and they seemed to be burning suddenly, almost glowing. “I do,” he said vehemently—and yet still shaking. “If you believe nothing else, believe this. Human or vampire, I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
She laid a small kiss on his lips, thanking him for such sweet words, promising that she did believe. “I love you.” She tried to put all her certainty in her words. “And I want you to do it.”
Her fumbling left hand pushed her hair away. She tilted her head, offering him her bared neck. Her right hand was at the back of his head, her fingers threaded in the short strands of hair there. She didn’t pull him to her neck but merely accompanied his movement.
He pressed his softest kiss yet to the crook of her neck, right over her pulse point. Her marks would match his, she thought dazedly, and smiled at the idea.
“I’ll try not to hurt you too much,” he murmured. She shivered at the feel of the words against her hyper-sensitized skin. “But I’m sorry if I do.”
Before she could think of an answer, she felt the sharp pain of his fangs sliding into her skin, like two points of fire branding her body. She cried out. Her fingers tightened into his hair, although she couldn’t have said if it was to pull him closer or push him away.
She did neither. As his fangs retracted, the sharp pain went with them, leaving only a dull throbbing. And then…
“Oh, God…”
He started pulling on her blood, and part of her shook at the pain of it. Her life and warmth were leaving her with each slow pull, each swallow. It would have been unbearable if it hadn’t been Owen warming from her blood, if he hadn’t been rocking his cock inside her with each slow suck of his mouth, if, with the pain, mixed so inextricably that they might as well have been one and the same, pleasure hadn’t been filling her completely. Her eyes wide yet unseeing, she started shaking, her mouth open for a cry that never passed her lips.
Only when his rocking became erratic and she felt him pulse inside her did it strike her—small orgasms had been rolling over her body since he had started drawing her blood. The wondrous feeling made her want to laugh and cry at the same time, but she could do neither. All she could do was feel Owen’s mouth on her, his lips and tongue sucking and pulling more blood from her. Her hand fell from his head to his back, and she could have sworn he was warm beneath her touch—warm from her blood.
She felt lightheaded, and bright spots of color were bursting in front of her eyes. Her eyelids closed, and the colors spun inside her head, recreating the paintings Owen had shown her tonight. She hadn’t told him how much she liked them, she suddenly realized with a sense of horror. How could she have forgotten something so essential! He had to know. She had to tell him. She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come. After, she promised herself. She would tell him when it was all over. She would. It was so hard to think now…
She didn’t feel him withdrawing for her, but he must have, because they were lying down, her head cradled against his shoulder. She tried to raise her hand to rest it on his chest, but forgot what she wanted to do before her hand lifted more than an inch. It settled down again on his hip.
Sleep pulled at her, making her drowsy, but as she started drifting away, soft words and even softer caresses drew her back to Owen.
“That’s it,” he murmured as her eyelids fluttered open. “Look at me, love, just a little longer.”
His thumb pressed on her bottom lip and pulled her mouth open.
“Drink, now. Take as much as you can.”
She wanted to ask what it was he wanted her to drink, but something was pressing against her lips. Smooth, silky skin. It wasn’t as cool as usual. A thick liquid trickled past her lips, coating her tongue and sliding down her throat. She swallowed reflexively.
Part of her knew, abstractly, that it was blood, but disgust and repulsion were beyond her. It tasted strange, she thought dimly. Not at all like she would have expected from the taste of her own blood when she had cut herself and stuck her finger into her mouth without thinking. It didn’t taste good, but it wasn’t bad, either. Instead, it was… different. It felt strong, full of life, and light, but also shadows, all coiled into one, reinforcing each other by their simple association.
The painting of Owen’s hand on her breast drifted back to the front of her slowing mind. This was what the blood tasted like, like that touch, those shapes, those contrasting colors. In that moment, nothing had ever been clearer to her, nothing had ever been so true, and she wanted to share her insight with Owen.
When his wrist lifted from her lips, she tried to explain it to him, but words escaped her. She felt as though she were in a cocoon made of wool that stopped light and sound, leaving only touch to her senses. Even that started to dim, but not before she felt Owen’s arms wrap around her and pull her tight against his body.
She drifted away knowing he wouldn’t let go. Not ever.
* * * *
All of a sudden, Lydia jerked and drew in a hissing breath through her teeth. She raised a shaky hand to her throat and touched it gingerly before looking at her fingers. The look on her face was one of pure wonder.
Next to Daisy, Jack lurched forward. His hand came up to rest against the glass of the window, and for an instant it seemed that it was the only thing holding him up. On the balcony, Lydia was still sitting, her head now turned away from them, toward the ocean. Across from her, Woods finally raised his head, and Daisy could see his eyelids flutter open. She opened the window, and the soft click of the latch drew Woods’ and Lydia’s attention.
Lydia stood, and when she stepped forward, Jack went to her. He wrapped her arms around her and drew her into a hug. Something twisted inside Daisy when she realized that, even though Lydia was returning the hug, her eyes were still vacant and seemed to be avoiding looking at Jack.
“Everything OK?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
“Everything’s fine,” she replied, but her voice sounded off, somehow. “I’m thirsty.”
Jack released her from the hug but kept a hand at her waist as he guided her off the balcony. She followed his lead, stopping only after she had crossed the threshold to the living room. Jack gave her a questioning look, but she was already looking back at Woods.
“Thank you,” she said, raising her voice a little.
Woods blinked and slowly turned his head to her. He nodded twice but did not reply. Jack cleared his throat, and pulled Lydia back to the living room. After watching them go,
Daisy stepped onto the balcony and sat in the chair Lydia had vacated.
“Please don’t ask me,” Woods said before she could say a word. “It’s her future, and no one but her has a right to know.”
He wiped his hands on his pants before raising his eyes to meet Daisy’s. They seemed more heavily lined that they had been earlier that night. She had been about to say that she agreed, and that in her opinion Woods didn’t have a right to know either, but she didn’t feel like arguing about it now, she realized, not when he seemed so troubled.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” she assured him. “Are you all right?”
He passed a hand through his hair and laughed nervously. “Oh, I’m fine, just fine.”
His gaze slipped to the window, and he looked inside the cottage. His expression darkened a little more. Daisy wondered if he could see Lydia and Jack from where he sat. She tried not to wonder about what he had seen.
“Have you ever come here before?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her.
He gave her a puzzled look. “Here? You mean, to this house?”
She nodded. “I know Helen had a few parties here with her friends.” All her siblings had, and so had Daisy before that night, but her sister was the most outgoing out of the four of them. “I thought she might have invited you. You must have been really popular in college.”
He shook his head at that and laughed, though his eyes still had a haunted quality to them. “I’m not sure popular is the right word. I tried to keep what I could do quiet, but there was always someone who would blurt out too much at parties, so I tried to avoid them as a rule. But now that you mention it, I do remember Helen inviting me a couple of times. If I had known the place was so nice, I might have accepted.”
It wasn’t the house he looked at, though, but the ocean. Daisy leaned back in the chair and considered him over her linked fingers. “I thought you enjoyed doing what you do. When you’re on TV—”