Love Bites

I met Alistair in a 24-hour supermarket, at about 2:00 AM in the produce department. He was holding a Granny Smith apple, smelling it, but his eyes were on me. He kept watching me and I did my best to ignore him but honestly, he was fucking gorgeous, like a wolf, or better yet, a panther, with his gleaming black hair and eyes as dark as onyx. He smelled like the earth of the forest, mossy and rich with the faintest hint of decay. His skin seemed cold and almost translucent. Everywhere I went in the deserted store, he was there, baring his teeth at me in what was supposed to be a grin.

Alistair commandeered my shopping cart and headed towards the checkout. When the goth looking cashier ogled him, I inexplicably wanted to jump over the conveyor belt and choke her but a placating glance and wink from him held me back.

"You'll have me all to yourself soon enough," he crooned, although his lips never moved.

He tossed some bills at the cashier and we left without waiting for change. I didn't question the fact that he walked unerringly to my car, I didn't have the will to question anything. When he stretched his hand out for my keys, I mutely turned them over and obediently took my place in the passenger seat.

Alistair started the car, revving the four-cylinder engine a couple of times then turned to me, reaching out to skim a long, sharp, pointed nail along my jaw and down my neck, pressing it lightly into the hollow of my throat.

"You're truly not scared of me," he observed, and his actual voice was like the ocean, beautiful, deep and endless.

"Why should I be?" I asked, leaning into his touch, making it dig in more profoundly.

He smiled and turned his attention back to driving.

"I can't wait to show you."

I can't recall where Alistair's house is. All I remember is one of those bland, nondescript neighborhoods that are like a maze of cookie-cutter structures. It was also the middle of the night and my imagination was too full of scenarios of what he had planned for me to notice much of anything else.

Spartan is too nice a word for what the interior of his house looked like. And it was definitely a house rather than a home. There was barely any furniture on the main floor and everything was dark and covered in thick layers of dust but we only just passed through there long enough for Alistair to deposit his apples on the kitchen counter. He grabbed my upper arm in a bruising grip and pushed me ahead of him up the stairs and down the hallway past a couple of open doors, a gloomy bathroom and bedrooms with nothing but bare mattresses occupying them.

His bedroom looked only slightly more inhabited. His untidy bed was huge and covered with dull black sheets.

"Good for concealing stains," he'd said, his voice laced with humor. Before I could even reply, he'd stripped me of my clothes, his razor sharp nails slicing through the fabric, and shoved me down on my back onto the bed. He crawled over me like the wild predator he'd reminded me of earlier and leaned down to speak in my ear.

"Scared yet?"

I smiled and shivered as Alistair's head dipped lower, his cool lips a hair's breadth away from my skin. His long nailed hands were almost talon-like in their appearance, his touch surprisingly gentle for the strength that I knew he possessed, unnatural, superhuman strength.

"You know I'm not. I... I want you," I choked, as a moan cut off my words, my face flushing crimson at the admission.

"You crave the touch of a monster, but not that of boys your own age?"

To be honest, I should have feared him, this unholy, godless creature, touching me as no man ever had before, making my breath accelerate and my pulse race. But I didn't. Instead, I welcomed it, reveled in his hands touching me, so cold against my heated skin. Would he kill me? Would he make me scream in pleasure for the very last time?

"Shhh," he cooed soothingly. "I didn't save you just to kill you," he answered my silent question, his hand moving to cup my breast, his thumb brushing against one puckered nipple. He almost seemed to be unnecessarily restraining himself.

"Then why did you?" I asked, quizzically searching his handsome, mesmerizing face. I raised a shaking hand to brush an unruly lock of hair off his forehead. Midnight black with flickering blue highlights, it was like silk beneath my fingers. In wonder, I traced his eyebrows, ran my fingertips down his nose and over his lips, almost as though to convince myself that he was truly real.

"It was your smell. God, it was like a drug. Soft and feminine, like a fruit, sweet, ripe and plump, ready to be sampled," he spoke, his voice weaving a spell of seduction.

"I've watched you for weeks. You read by candle light every night, you love to bake cookies before bed. Your bath is scented with lavender oil and rose water. You dance barefoot in thunderstorms. You exude purity and happiness in everything you do."

I knew I should have felt angry at this violation of privacy. He had spied on me in my own home, the one place where I was most vulnerable and my guard was down. But surprisingly, I wasn't.

His eyes were hypnotizing as he lowered his lips to my ear, whispering dark promises of sensual delight.

"Hmm," he said out loud, cool lips trailing slowly down my neck, fangs lengthening of their own volition over my throbbing jugular, nicking the delicate skin before sinking his teeth in deep. Blood welled immediately to the surface. His tongue snaked out, cold, wet, and rough, to lap sensuously at the liquid vitality. I gasped even as he growled, his body vibrating with the sound.

"Innocence. I can taste it in your blood. All chastity and goodness," he purred, his nose nuzzling behind my ear. My body shuddered at the implications of his words, their dark, seductive tone almost as erotic as his actions.

The pain and abruptness of the bite admittedly did frighten me for a brief moment. There is no other pain I can compare to being bitten by Alistair. I fought against it as much as I could, which was hardly at all. He had me pinned beneath him like a prized butterfly and perversely, it aroused me like nothing ever had before. I knew there was a jagged wound instead of the neat tooth holes you see in the movies. He ravaged me silently but I could hear his laughter infiltrating my head. He had the first of many things he wanted from me, my heart racing with fear and excitement, pumping hot blood through my veins so that it nearly gushed into his anticipating mouth.

The agony of the bite subsided along with the surprise and the feeling of helplessness was soon replaced with an actual burning desire, fanned to an inferno by Alistair's lips and tongue working against my throat and the sounds of him gulping me down. When my hand found its way into his hair to hold him against me, he stopped and stood up, leaving me whimpering and writhing on the bed with need.

In a blur of motion, he was naked and standing over me, cinching my wrists together with his belt and securing it to the headboard.

"You know you don't need to do that," I said, my eyes on him.

His pale body was speckled with black hair and just muscular enough to look great in clothes and amazing out of them. His cock was like fine marble etched with blue veins and looked just as hard, straining towards his navel.

Alistair smiled and his teeth flashed white, starkly contrasting against the blood smearing the lower half of his face.

"Oh, I know. I just like the way it looks. And besides, you want me to." He swiped a finger across his dripping lips and sucked it clean.

I did. I wanted whatever Alistair wanted, no matter what it was.

What he wanted right then was to knee my thighs apart and enter me with one hard thrust. It was a good thing I'd gotten wet the moment he had touched me in the car. I had gotten even more wet thinking that he probably wouldn't have cared if I wasn't. When had I become so twisted?

"I'm Alistair, by the way."

I giggled at the absurdity of his introduction in the midst of fucking me blind and then hissed and bucked beneath him as he nipped at my nipples and lapped at the blood beading there. He grasped my arms for leverage, making the belt dig into my wrists with each crash of his hips against mine and somehow, that small level of discomfort intensified my pleasure. I couldn't speak in agreement, could barely even think straight but I wrapped my legs around Alistair and worked myself along the length of his cock and that was answer enough.

I was getting close so of course, he stopped, sliding down my body and resting between my legs. He smiled at my attempts to shove my pussy against his mouth.

"Be still." He dug his nails into my hips for emphasis and then licked away the spots of blood that welled up in their wake as I moaned and wriggled beneath him.

"Oh, how I like this game!" He pricked my belly and curled his tongue out to collect the drops, watching me, savoring my reaction. He kept doing it, going lower, marking my hips and thighs and then temporarily alleviating the pain.

He held a single finger over my pussy and I nearly came.

"Alistair, please," I begged. He was so right about me.

"Just kidding," he said with a laugh and then he went down on me. His fangs on my most tender skin were a constant danger that propelled me higher and higher.

"Oh God, do it." I looked down my body at him, seeing his eyes glow red with sinful satisfaction at my silent pleas. He captured my clit between his teeth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and I came with a cry, which changed to a scream when he turned his head and clamped down on my thigh, drinking thirstily as I floated back down to earth.

I lay there as Alistair freed my wrists, limp as a rag doll and sucking wind like I'd just sprinted a mile. I hurt all over, like I had dozens of inflicted paper cuts and someone had poured salt water on me. The coppery tang of blood was so thick in the air I could taste it. I pried my eyes open when he sat on the bed next to me and I admired his perfect back in the dim light. I noticed he wasn't breathing heavily and hadn't broken a sweat and then I wondered if either was even physically possible for him.

"Did you even come?" I asked, reaching out to touch him but then thought better of it.

His hand shot out and caught mine, yanking me close.

"I could fuck you for days and never be satisfied." He smiled at the images in my mind and shook his head, smirking.

"It's like gorging on food and always being hungry. Blood is the only thing that matters now. Now go to sleep before I drain you dry."

I don't remember driving home but I woke up in my own bed, alone. Memories of my strange night came flooding back and I jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror to examine my body. Underneath the smeared blood, there wasn't a mark on me except for one perfect bite wound on my inner thigh. I fingered it and hoped it was much more than just a souvenir.