[The story is based on Anne Rice's Interview With The Vampire the AMC series]
During the 1870s and '80s, it gave rise to the Industrial Revolution which paved way to the concept of capitalism dominated by social elites: the aristocrats - who played...
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HIS ARMS WRAPPED around me; it was as if I was being embraced by the wings of an angel. But he was no angel, nor I, and there's no warmth between us. Only coldness, like two clashing marbles.
I felt Lestat's fingers trace the line of my back as I lied behind him on the ruined altar table on the ground. The white and golden mantle served as our blanket which covered some naked parts of us. He kissed my shoulder, then buried his face in the curve of my neck. I could feel him breathing all of me.
"What're you thinking?" Lestat murmured.
"Why do you ask? Just read them like you always do."
"I can't anymore."
This made me turn around to face him. "Why?"
"It's the price I had paid when I turned you." His fingers brushed against my cheek while his cold gray eyes gazed on my lips. "So, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking about... guilt."
"You don't have to be guilty for killing them. We do it to survive."
"That's the problem. I don't feel guilty at all."
"That's what happens when you're an apex predator. They're just food, cherie, we shouldn't feel anything about it but the sense of necessity."
I glanced up at the gigantic cross that stood behind us. It was looking down on us condemningly. I knew things had changed in me, but my old self's shackles to the faith was still there. I abruptly sat up. "Fuck."
"What is it?" Lestat asked as he too pulled himself up to sit.
"Fuck Lestat, we fucked at the altar. You should've stopped me earlier from kissing you. We could've prevented this indecency!"
"And you're blaming me?" He chuckled unbelievably then shook his head. "It's no use. I don't give a fuck about indecency. I'm always down anywhere, anytime."
"You're fucked up."
"We both are."
Then I didn't know what happened or why it happened, but we started smashing our lips to one another again. Our fangs were jutting out, making each other's mouths bleed unintentionally.
Lestat slammed me back down on the floor. His hands clutched my thighs then spread them apart - so widely, that my torn hole, ripped open again... and started to bleed again. His size and length were to be blamed for my lacerated cunt, but even though it was painful, no whine escaped my lips... only moans of pure ecstacy and bliss... and I moaned more and louder - when his tongue traced the narrow path between my vulva. He lapped my ripped vagina, licking all my blood and savoring it. Lestat's lips moved upwards until he reached my engorged clit. My whole body quivered when he wrapped his lips around it and sucked it while his talented tongue swirled around. He only released my clit from his mouth when it was swollen and overstimulated.
