When you came in the air went out

Almost insatiable

I must have passed out as the next thing I was aware of was choking on something I was being told to swallow. It was sickly sweet and cold as ice against my throat, making me want to gag, but a gloved hand was help over my mouth until I swallowed it down.

Why couldn't whoever they were just leave me alone? Now my throat felt so cold it hurt, and I didn't like hurting. I just wanted to go back to sleep.

The hand was removed and I gasped for air which thankfully felt warm and very welcome against whatever concoction I had swallowed. I coughed hard but calmed down when the feeling slowly dissipated within me. The smell of the gloves remained though, what was the plastic that they're made out of...? I couldn't think straight.

A pale face loomed into my vision and I was able to focus on Eric who looked very serious. What had I done now? His big blue eyes looked really nice against his pale skin though. And I really did like the way his hair kind of flopped into his eyes when he leaned forward. I felt his arms around me and he lifted me up and against his chest. That was nice. When was the last time he had held me close like this? Oh yeah, when he flew me home one night.

That thought made me want to be out of his arms and I began to struggle, but my limbs wouldn't move properly. Not that I would have been able to escape his strong grip anyway, so he continued walking, or bouncing along. Were we actually walking anywhere or was he just bouncing me?

I looked around and my vision had cleared slightly, and I could tell that he was walking me out of the main bar and into his office. He opened the door, entered the office and closed the door again with hardly a stir to me, making me wonder how the hell he had done that...

I felt us both descend and he shifted me so he was sat on his leather sofa with me in his lap leaning against his chest facing away from him. I wanted to sit upright, maybe even get off his damn lap but my more compis mentis mind noted that again, I could not control my body movements. This realisation, now that I actually taken note of it, sobered me up, and I had a dash of panic.

"Shhh" was whispered in my ear. "You will live"

OK, thanks for the clarification but that still didn't mean I could move...

He removed an arm from around my waist, and then quickly brought it back into view in front of me. I could clearly see the tear in his wrist and the slow seeping of his blood out of the messy wound. I followed the flow over his pale skin until it escaped the flesh and dripped down onto my chest. I could feel the coolness of it through my thin clothing.

"Drink" I heard whispered and the wrist came closer to my mouth.

Without thinking I moved my head to the side, where it lolled onto his shoulder, earning me a growl from behind me. He came closer to my ear and I felt his lips move against my skin. "You would rather remain stubborn and suffer?" He sounded firm but he did chuckle.

Oh yeah, laugh it up Eric. Ugh, but he was right. It would heal me and it's not like it was my first ingestion of vampire blood. But I couldn't remember the last time; he had fed me while I slept and my conscious mind was having a real problem getting round the whole idea of drinking from him.

As if he could feel my indecision, he shifted his shoulder so my head was upright and brought his wrist to my mouth again, and didn't really give me a choice, pressing it firmly against me.

I parted my lips and felt the ridges of the torn flesh and the slippery cool liquid. A wave of nausea went through me as I thought about what I was physically doing. This was so wrong.

"Drink."

His blood was already in my mouth without me really doing anything. It was strangely cool, but as it warmed, it lost some of its viscosity, spreading quicker over my tongue. It had the same metallic, earthy taste as you would expect from blood but it was also sweet, but not sugar sweet. Did that even make sense? I was concentrating so hard on trying to think about the taste that I didn't realise I had opened my mouth wider so I could move my tongue over the wound. With my tongue coated, and my mouth now watering over the pleasant taste and sensation, I swallowed, and immediately took another lick. There was less blood this time so I found myself clamping my lips over the wound and sucking. It flowed easily into my mouth and although not a mouthful, it was the most I had (consciously) swallowed.