The Red Rose

Chapter XXI

I couldn't resist, I wanted to avoid it and understand what the hell was going on, but having her so close to me caused an inevitable sensation of morbidity and desire, but also made me feel bad about myself.

She smelled and kissed me all over my face and neck, and had me firmly embraced against her chest, while murmuring:

"I need you, I know I shouldn't, I know we can't and you don't want to, but I can't, I don't want to... Oh love, help me."

And well, the thing escalated as I knew it would, and without further ado, the kisses and caresses led us to the couch, and like the great idiot I am, we started right there.

I realized the time I had spent without having intimacy and how the stress from the topic of the Trauco had made me forget about my "needs", so to speak.

She smiled and her eyes dilated as the crimson tone of her eyes intensified, I imagine my eyes did too, just as those first times she had initiated me into the art of love, although it had been in a way, "questionable".

One of the things I could notice was how, when her red lips opened, her fangs came out, then she tried to scratch me with her hands. When we were already wrapped up in each other's arms, she seemed to pant and barely whisper, then let out some bites on my neck and shoulder, I let out a lewd grin and said while breathing heavily:

"You know you can't scratch or bite me, my skin is impenetrable."

She turned around and took the lead, approaching with her sharp fangs to my throat, under my ear, and while seeming to take a deep breath of my scent, almost panting with what I thought was thirst, she whispered seductively against my skin:

"I know, I just need to smell your exquisite blood, your essence, your being. I just want to feel you, body and soul."

I have no idea if all women are like this, since Carmilla is a vampire, maybe she has her peculiarities, but the way she seemed to caress and dance around me, in addition to scratching and biting me, reminded me a lot of a feline's behavior. There was something about her frustration, she seemed to almost hiss like a thirsty animal, and the way she desperately tried to be close to me, united, made me realize how much I enjoyed the feeling of her lips on my skin.

But even with that strange grimace of desperation, there was a kind of admiration. She ran her pale hands over me, examining me with amazement, incredulity, and desire, almost as if she couldn't believe it was me she was with.

I also noticed, when she closed her beautiful eyes and smiled, the contrast between her pale skin and mine, bronzed, and could feel how her skin seemed to emit a certain glow, which seemed to harmonize with mine, like seeing under the light of the moon, the contrast between silver and gold.

"Damn you dude, how melodramatic I am! I'm getting a little Victorian!" I thought, laughing at myself, incredulous of how I kept falling into her arms, and ended up once again, closing my eyes, under the spell of my gothic girlfriend.

After several hours, when I woke up, I felt her hand caressing my face and she smiled as she said:

"You've grown up, my beloved Miguel. You've matured a lot in such a short time. You really got the touch of the angels, the kind that even the best artists could never sculpt."

She then took a pause, looking almost sideways, and covered herself with the blanket, adding:

"You must feel dirty, rolling around with a vile creature like me, a parasite that lives off the essence of others."

Her face turned sad, and her beautiful brown hair, now messy, covered her face that darkened with the words she had said. I tried to correct her:

"No. Look. When we talked at the cafe, I wasn't referring to what you are, but to what you did at that time. It's actions that define us, not who we are. I understand what you are and the difficulties you face, but I wasn't angry with you for what you are, that was never the problem."