The Ring

0013

A wave of emotions ran over Chrissa, as she broke open the door to the room. It revealed a sleeping Michael. She ran over to him swiftly, as if her speed were of the wind. It surprised her.

His room was just like hers, except he had crimson-colored blankets. She went to the side of him, studying his appearance. He'd gone as pale as snow, his once alive raven colored hair, had now been as dark as ink.

There had no longer been a bruise on his cheek, as his skin suddenly appeared flawless. His jaw sharp, his cheekbones sunken in, his face chiseled beautifully. She brought her hand over where his heart would be. No movement. No beat.

His eyes then opened, and his hand had grabbed Chrissa's out of quick reaction, and he sat up. The two of them froze, as they gazed at one another, as if paralyzed. He looked at his once alive Chrissa, amazed at how she'd changed.

How her tight curls had melted into waves that rested onto her skeletal-looking shoulders, and spilling onto her chest. Before words could emerge from Michael's lips, Chrissa brought her lips to his own. At first, he stood still, but quickly, he responded.

She had no idea how to thank him for his constant protection, his constant worrying about her existence. He had been there for her time and time again, and she'd never felt closer to anyone in her life. He saw into her and expressed it through his actions, every time. Chrissa then got on top of Michael, and straddled him.

Desire erupted from his chest, and sudden hunger for something buried deep within had greeted him. He felt his length go rock solid under her, as she had grinded against him. Her lips kissed his neck, and then his chest, and then beneath his ear.

Regaining his newfound strength and ignoring the practicality of the entire situation, he flipped her over and brought his lips to her nipple. Emotion escaped from her lips, as he ran his finger over the sensitive spot beneath her stomach, all the while kissing her neck. He didn't understand his feelings for her but he wanted more. He didn't care that she had been cursed with Vampirism. He didn't care that she was no longer the Chrissa that he once knew. It didn't matter how Chrissa looked because it was still his Chrissa. He brought his mouth to hers again, as if she were air and he was out of breath.

"My Chrissa," he smiled, and looked at her thoughtfully. "You sure you want this?" He asked her, in a passionate tone of voice, and kissed her forehead. He didn't want to stop himself, but he knew how important it was to ask her permission. He needed her approval. And that was something that he never needed from anyone.

Chrissa looked up at him in a trance-like state, her eyes suddenly growing heavy with lust. She ripped apart his white shirt, and it revealed his tight, strong toned muscles. And then she glanced at his trousers, and how his length had been clearly present, and suddenly stood up as it took in her exposed chest.

"I've never wanted anything more," Chrissa said, in longing.

Michael then bit his lip at the way her body reacted to his and kissed her neck once more. His steel stiffened, as he grinded it against Chrissa's sensitive spot. She moaned at the interaction. Michael thought her body was perfect. He always did. He loved her curves, her breasts, the fullness of her lips. He grew even more solid at the thought of it. Of thrusting into her, being inside of her, feeling her up.

"Please," Chrissa whined when his hands cupped her breast and went over her nipple. She needed their souls to merge, for them to be one. She wanted to feel all of him at once.

"I need you, Michael." She said in a soft voice.

"Again." He said, his eyes suddenly looking into her own. When he stopped grinding, Chrissa's body longed for it even more, "please say it again," Michael begged. He didn't know why he had dragged it out, but something inside of him loved to see Chrissa want him so badly. It was like his soul craved her longing, and drunk it in like sweet nectar. It was like music to his ears. He was throbbing.

Chrissa smiled, "I need you." She repeated softly to him. Michael then pressed his lips against her forehead and slid his rock solid length inside of her with gentle force.

Her body reacted almost instantly in pleasure, as she threw her head back, and arched her back lost in desire. He ran his finger over her wet, sensitive, delicate parts again, and slid his hard cock slowly into her, taking in the beautiful sight of a submissive Chrissa. How she had given her body to him, and how he had given his to hers, expressed in different ways. How she trusted Michael with herself.

She suddenly let out a high pitched sigh, as she felt along the strong muscles of his back. Michael then quickened up his pace, as he slid into her faster. He just kept getting harder. "Fuck Chriss," he muttered strongly and threw his head back, as he thrusted into her again.

"S-so," he muttered as he gritted his teeth, "perfect," Michael cursed, as he slid his hard cock inside her again.

"Ah," she moaned, as his hardened steel fucked her harder. Michael kissed her shoulder swiftly and cursed underneath his breath as he felt her wet clit kiss his abs. Part of him felt sinful for fucking the princess, but he loved it. He loved her.

He then pulled out of her swiftly and went to the side of her. He sat up and began stroking himself. He slammed his eyes shut, as he had started to get lost in passion. He imagined fucking Chrissa over and over again, he imagined his hard on slamming into her wetness and splashing as it collided into her. He imagined her calling his name over and over again. He imagined what it would feel like for her lips to encircle it. Her full, pretty, innocent lips. He longed to tie her hands together away from her and do all kinds of lustful things. But she was so precious. He felt so dirty for thinking about it.

"Chriss," He muttered when he opened his eyes and looked over at her. He kissed her again, as he had reached a climax, and it felt as if he were alive again. The dark-haired girl then ran her fingers over herself and placed her other fingers inside of her as she took in the hot sight of Michael imagining losing himself within the thought of her. He had spilled all over himself, and his body slightly trembled.

Suddenly, her body felt as if it were paralyzed in lust, and she shut her eyes softly. She had reached her climax too. She felt alive. The feeling was sweet, it was familiar, and she didn't realize how strongly she had been craving it. But more than anything, she loved the feeling of Michael's cock growing inside of her. Him fucking her as if she were the sun, and he;d experienced nothing but winter.

But soon, the passion had escaped.

It left both of their bodies as if it were sweetness being washed away, and the two of them had retracted slowly from their actions.

Michael had never been as close to another person the way that he felt with Chrissa in his entire life.The last time he had ever felt close to another person, was when his mother had been alive. Nobody else had ever jabbed at his heart the way that his mother's death did, except the feeling of touching Chrissa's soul. He then looked to the side of him and brought his arms around her body. Chrissa was surprised at his touch and stroked his arm. He was safe. Her home.

But something had bothered her. Something felt off about him.

"You stopped," she said softly. There were so many things that she wanted to say, but for some reason, those were the first words to escape from her lips. Chrissa gazed at him, "I know I appear different..."

She prepared herself for the worst.

"It's not your appearance," Michael chuckled, "you're perfect." He then sat up so that he could face her. He grabbed her hand gently.

Chrissa's face softened, as she brought the red comforter over her chest. She looked at him innocently. "I am?"

Laughter escaped from him, "you are."

She rolled her eyes with a smile on her lips, as she took in a happy Michael. She liked him that way. Happiness and laughter was what he deserved. She pecked his cheek softly. "Well then what was it?"

"Nothing," he said, in a suddenly distant tone.

"You're fibbing," she whispered, in a singsong voice.

"Maybe," a smile rested on his lips. "But only because I love you," he said in a voice so low that only he could hear.