The Touch of Demise │18+

33: Seed of Demise

GRACE

It was dusk when they found their master suite. They didn't rush into their room in a frenzy of desire and sexual frustration. They walked in, hand-in-hand, calm and patient, and they walked in together. They had their frenzied moments; the moments when the only thing that mattered was getting tangled in pleasure with one another. When their breath merged into one sigh and their touches became a siren of lust and desire.

But this wasn't that. It was different. It was gentle. It was loving. He shut the door behind them and then pulled her into his arms and kissed the crown of her head. His hand fell onto her jaw, lifting her to look at him. "You're beautiful, you know that," he whispered. He's said it before and each time it sounded like a prayer.

"Are you feeling okay, my mate?" She asked

In a rare instance, he smiled. His eyes were red still, but they were lighter. They burned bright auburn and for a moment, she could have sworn she saw green flicker through like climbing vines. His eyes widened as he looked at her.

"Your eyes," he whispered. "They have green in them."

"My eyes are brown," she said, confused.

"Usually they're completely brown, almost as dark as night, but now they're..."

"Vines," she whispered.

He nodded. "How are you feeling?"

She kissed him. It was a light, scarce peck. "I'm ready."

He led her to their massive bed and climbed in with her.

"Do you want to feed from me?" His silence told her many things. The first was that he absolutely wanted to, the second was that he was still nervous that one day he'd request too much from her, and the third was that he would never ever put his needs above hers.

She laid down on her back and he sat above her, tracing down her cheek.

"You're smiling," she whispered.

"Nothing makes me more excited than to solidify the bond with you."

"Can I see them," she asked, sitting herself up on her forearms.

His brows furrowed and then he rolled his eyes. "Should I be concerned by how much you like the vampire fangs?"

"Did you just roll your eyes at me? Oh, Gods, you do have a sense of humor."

"Funny." The sarcasm was blatant.

"I like the fangs because they're on you."

He nodded, his hand trailing over her shirt. The veins leading to his eyes blackened and she inhaled deeply, her chest rising against his palm.

"You're hungry," she said. "Feed from me. I want you to."

His eyes narrowed for a moment and he nodded. "Come here." She sat in between his legs, his arms around her, and his nose trailing up her jugular.

"You should take from my neck this time. Last time you were nervous, but nothing bad happened and I hear..."

"It's different," he concluded. She nodded against him. "Lean back. Close your eyes." She felt his fangs on her, soft and delicate. He held her firm and he inhaled long before the familiar pinch radiated through her neck. It was different this time once the initial pain passed. Warmth flooded her and that warmth turned into pleasure. She moaned, delicately, unbelievably softly. His hand was firm on her neck, holding her, sheltering her, and the fact that he was gaining both pleasure and nourishment from her - her body - delighted her in immeasurable ways.