- Night has fallen and Michael is here. I feel him waiting, outside in the storm, confused and
frightened like a lost child in a strange place. It has been ten nights since he last left. Setting
my book aside, I hurry to find him........
- "Michael." I say his name softly, as I unlatch the window, opening the house
to the night. It is all the invitation he needs. He enters, naked and dripping across the layered
rugs, eyes childlike yet darkly dangerous as he scans the room........
- The barest scent is enough. Michael turns, his dark eyes gleaming as the hunger comes
suddenly to the fore, and quicker than the eye can follow he's at my side. I fill the cup not
quite to the brim and then offer it to him. In spite of his need, he hesitates. "Go on, Michael."
I push the warm cup into his hands.
 He
takes the cup, cautiously sniffing it. The aroma is heady, even for me, yet his fangs do not
emerge. Not yet. He sniffs again, this time in indulgence, closing his eyes as he savours the
moment. Then he drinks and is lost in ecstasy.
I watch, almost in envy, as he feels the warm life flowing down his throat. The redness lingers
a moment on his lips before his tongue licks it away ever so slowly with sensual thoroughness.
He drinks again, and I am drawn into his moment by the thought of my blood flowing into his body,
filling him with life. My cock begins to swell with another thought, another kind of filling
with another kind of life. I refill his cup and savor my own desires.
Even in the dim light I can see the change occurring. His skin is no longer the bone white of
delicate china but the slight tan of summer remembered. And in his eyes, the light of memory
begins to burn with awareness. And recognition.
He pounces, suddenly in my arms, his mouth locking onto mine. His lips and tongue are cool as
they wrestle with mine, but they warm quickly along with the rest of him as one need gives way
to another. Only when I begin to struggle does he remember that I, at least, still need to breathe.
He smiles, unabashed, as he reluctantly breaks the kiss.
Miss me? He asks, breathless. His lips do not move, but his eyes speak and somehow I hear him.
"Yes," I sigh, reaching up to pluck a bit of leaf from his hair, smoothing it back into place.
"Oh, yes."
- God, you feel good ! Michael rises up above me, his eyes aglow as he pins my wrists to the
floor. His fangs are quite visible now, sharp and shining with desire. He pushes himself up with
his toes, his hips undulating in a way that rubs our urgent genitals together.
"So do you," I moan. His grip is supernaturally strong, and I can do nothing..
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(c) Copyright: Whitt Pond, shown with permission from Cecilia Tan, Editor of Erotica Vampirica
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