I loved pomegranates in my youth. The rush of cool, sugary sweetness past my teeth, closely chased by a firm bite of sourness that ever so slightly lingered on my tongue. Nothing could sate me more perfectly than nature's most flawless crimson concoction. But every so often I'd bite a bit too hard, a bit too eagerly, and was harshly lashed by the bitter rind lying just underneath that immediately killed the pleasant tang seeped onto my tongue. And even after the unforgiving astringency faded, the seeds, by then left devoid of juice, quickly turned to jagged gravel in my mouth. Such memories of my childhood flooded my mind as I felt two sharp needles pinch my neck. Freezing cold arms wrapped around me, ensnaring me in lock of firm muscle as I wiggled and writhed uncontrollably.
"Don't move..." A low, sonorous tone vibrated by my ear, a generous gust of humid air caressing my skin.
"I-I can't," I stuttered, suffocated by the thick air engulfing me on all sides.
"Yes, you can." The man slid a large, icy hand upwards, slowly dragging his thick and calloused digits up my skin to cradle the opposite side of my neck. "I don't want to hurt you... At least, not more than necessary," he whispered in an uncharacteristic display of patience, fangs ever so slightly grazing my neck as he spoke. His chin was partly lain on my collar bone, forcing him to harshly crane his neck in order to accommodate his larger frame. My own face was buried in the crease between his neck and shoulder, just able to catch a glimpse of the few dazzling golden locks of slightly overgrown hair wandering down to the base of his nape in the corner of my eye. "Shall I count down from three?" he quietly chuckled from his nose. "Hm?"
I desperately scrounged for what little conviction I could summon in those lengthy moments, "No... just go ahead." I felt corners of his chilled lips curl with devious intent against my skin.
"Good girl," he grinned into my neck. Before his cool breath could even settle in the air, a deep sting blossomed from my neck, tearing a breathy gasp out of my lungs. The twin needles lodged themselves as far as they possibly could into my flesh, planting an unnerving and insatiable tickle in the depths of my throat. My ears were immediately flooded with an obscene chorus of eager sucking and slurping that quickly grew sloppier as each lingering moment trickled by, eventually allowing streams of scalding blood to ooze past his careless lips and cascade down my neck. Thick tears blurred my vision, a miasma of dizzyingly sweet and earthy musk seeping from the man fogging my mind as his feast went on for an eternity. My fingers helplessly clawed at his broad chest, not impeding his actions in the slightest. The hideous swelling awareness of impending death crawled over every inch of my skin, my mouth gaping dumbly in a panic.
"Dio-" I choked out, eyes blown wide open. I wasn't entirely sure he heard or even understood my plea, but mercifully, he drew his fangs from my neck, allowing a near instantaneous sense of relief to wash over me, bathing every corner of my body. His slightly parted lips rested against the raw punctures for several still seconds only filled with ragged pants and desperate gasps. I expected him to release me, but his grip stayed firm and anchored me in place. For a moment I'd assumed the event had ended, but instead I was shocked with the sensation of his wet, chilled tongue peaking out from between his lips. I flinched, bracing myself for what could come next, but he never brandished his fangs. Instead, he carefully traced the borders of the bloody wound, meticulously lapping up each and every drop of blood he could, like a starved beast. He began to slowly drag his tongue back and forth, licking long, ticklish strips up and down my neck until the skin was moist with a slurry of his tepid saliva and my blood, both diluted and not. Once satisfied, he finally retracted from me, slowly rising almost to full stature. My hand instinctively moved to cover the flowing wound, ignoring the sensation of his saliva coating my palm.
Dio's entire body sagged with relief, his head absently lolling about and his arms dangling at his sides as if they were boneless. His newly crimson eyes were out of focus, foggy and glazed over as if hopelessly intoxicated. The entire bottom half of his face was savagely smeared with fresh blood and his own drool, beginning to run down his neck and threatening to drip from his chin. The sight provoked something unknown inside of me, foreign and unventured, but not quite unpleasant. An almost-satisfaction at the sight of the muscle-bulked, yet equally, if not more cunning and ruthlessly calculated man looming over me, muddled and utterly vulnerable. His disheveled and snow-like pale complexion was sullied by the same deep wine red shade as his eyes. A crisp shiver skittered down my spine, as I dismissively raised my free hand up to his blood-caked cheek. He pensively leaned into my touch, eyelids fluttering shut, somehow giving the creature's dastardly state a quiet air of child-like innocence.
