This story, it's characters and all it's accompanying parts belong to the author.
This may be considered PG13 to R due to mature subject matter
Sex: Nothing graphic - but there are two people involved, and they may or may not be of the same or opposite sex
Comments are welcome. Send them to LiquidKrma@aol.com
She sat in the darkness, willing herself to stillness, to silence, right forearm lightly on the rest, fingers perfectly splayed, her chin exquisitely, arrogantly resting on her left fist. With a slight purse of her sensually cruel lips and a narrowing of the eyes, she waited.
She burned, she froze, she lusted and loathed. A wild yearning filled her body as the hunger rose through her skin.
She would have to hunt soon...
I feel her before I see her. Before I know her face, I smell blood and I am drawn like a moth to a flame, though I am the one that burns. I follow the rapid beat that sounds in my ears, her heart, my heart, and I approach.
My skin is hot and my eyes red rimmed and fevered though the cold, clear logic of ice runs in my veins. I am patiently cruel as I remind myself that one will come, one always does. The air shifts around me, the barest hint of a whisper of the promise of a soothing breeze. I turn and am snared by her midnight eyes.
The promise of eternal pain, rage, release and joy were all etched on her face, held in her lips. Through half-lidded eyes, she smiled, a light lifting, a small ripple in her lips. It was time to begin.
Raw. Primal. Rage, lust, pain and desire swirled together, hazing her vision and tightening her body until it was as drawn and tense as a bowstring. Hunger made her tremble. "Now..."
It does not matter how we met. It does not matter how we moved past the barriers of language and culture, through mundane matters such as names and places, streets, numbers and a way to get there. All that matters, truly, ever, is the bone deep, blood rich core of truth, hidden beneath politer words and thousands of years of civilization.
Blood cannot be tamed.
I drew her into my arms and I felt the cool heat of her chest against mine. A sense of wonder for her and respect for the power I now held swept over me. I drew my fingers from her brow across her cheeks, down, under her chin, and I traced a path from her neck to her back, up her spine to tangle my hand in the waves that cascaded from her head. My other hand cupped her cheek, the softness of her being sculpted in cool marble perfection. My thumb lightly traced the defined edges of a mouth that was the only part of her that betrayed the fire that I knew lay raging within. I brought my hand back from the ocean where it played and with the barest of touches followed the lines of the exquisite arch of her brow to the planes of her cheek, where one thumb joined the other.
That beautiful face held carefully between my fingers trapped me between the mystery of her eyes and the inviting fire of her lips. I bent my head to taste.
I felt her arms close around me, delicately, gently, but their strength could not be hidden. Hands marked my face with icy fire as I tilted my head back and gazed at my would-be captor through my lashes. Feather-light and dangerous, a thumb crossed my lips. I softly exhaled; enough to hint at the overriding fire within, not enough to release it. As my face was gently cradled by her fingertips, just the barest hint of pressure, of the hidden strength I knew she held, I captured my predator – and I bared my throat.
Her mouth descended and my world narrowed until only the ripe wine fullness of her lips existed. The barrier dissolved, the fury rose and roared in my ears and I drank of painful soft sweetness.
She was lost, she was found. She had dissolved into nothing and she was achingly aware of the bittersweet thrumming that sang through her skin. Anchored to the ache, she drank to devour and was in turn destroyed. She emptied, she filled, she desired. With controlled, precise abandon, her hands snaked down the slender neck and met one another at the throat, so aware of the pulse beneath, separated by silk, separated by skin.
Agony lanced through her. She lifted her head to gaze at the lips, her source and her end. She tightened her hands and tore the silk
The bait had been set and the trap sprung. She closed her eyes in satisfaction as the cool pressure came upon her. Lips embraced they stayed until with the slightest of flickers, she was within warm, sweet wetness.. She lightly quested with her tongue to explore this old-new territory and was answered in response. The warriors struggled and danced. She tasted victory. She tasted blood. She smiled to herself and felt her belly grow taut as she felt the elegant slide down her neck. They made their way to the base of her throat and she gasped as the heat that had grown on her tongue was removed. She pursed her lips and gazed back at this one, the one whom she knew would come.
She felt the hands and the power gather at the base of her throat. She could taste the need rising within and without. She ran her tongue along the cutting edge of her teeth. One short, sharp and sudden movement and she was exposed.
She stood, skin mercifully cooling in the air
I am a fool. I push the torn fabric past the smooth roundness of her shoulders down the valley of her spine and she does not resist, she merely looks at me through languid lashes, taunts me with the lushness of her lips.
As I pass the firm roundness that makes and defines her hips, I shudder involuntarily, for where normally I would grasp with bruising strength (my fingers tighten for a moment with that need) to crush, to devour, I am strangely still. No, not this one, insinuates itself between my eyes and in a most detached manner I wonder for a moment if I am afraid. I negligently dismiss the thought.
I release the flesh that calls me and I stand still, hands loosely by my thighs. I gaze upon her and she frees herself, lightly lifting one well-sculpted leg at a time, from the cloth that has puddled around her feet..
A sudden rush, a blur of motion, and I am complete again as her mouth meets mine.
I cannot, I will not wait any longer to turn the tables, yet I am coy as her hands slide my clothes from my body, to fall, then rest at my feet. As she passes my hips, her hands clutch for a moment. I know and I enjoy being provocative as I slowly and sharply remove first one foot and then the other from the soft folds and I know what she feels, for her eyes move no higher than my lips, then rake across the rest of my body.
I watch as her nostrils flare lightly and as she exhales, I know the rhythm of her. I feel the hum within me move out of my skin until it seems that I, that she can hear it, that the very air will vibrate with the effort of suppressed appetite.
Before she can draw from the air again, return to her tenuous control, I am upon her and her mouth melts into mine. Her lips part in invitation as mine do in welcome and I enter, with a sense of relief, of completion, to be within.