7 comments/ 16365 views/ 15 favorites Blood & Metal By: Syri07 He doesn't have to look to know she's there. It's 10 o'clock on a Thursday night. She never misses and she's never late. He feels her slide into the empty seat beside him and her scent immediately surrounds him, blocking out all others, immersing him in a heavy, fragrant cloud. She smells of cool earth, of freshly blooming green things and something much sweeter and more enticing. He spends those lonely rides home inhaling that scent, for it clings to his clothes and skin afterwards, sending echoes of the memories of their nights together flashing past his minds eye. She doesn't speak to him at first. From the corner of his eye, he watches her signal for the bartender. She orders her usual, a double of Crown Royale on the rocks and he smiles a little to himself, glad to have finally found a woman that likes, and can handle, the good stuff. She takes a sip and folds her arms gracefully on the edge of the bar. "Rough night, Detective," she finally says in that beautiful voice of hers. It is low in timbre, much lower than what is considered feminine, and melodic, reminding him of soft haunting music, a tune that you can't exactly remember nor get out of your head. It moves like cool, dark silk over the warm flesh of his face and hands and in the back of his mind he can hear all those dirty little things she's whispered to him in that melodious voice. "Eh, same old, same old," he says, matter-of-factly. She turns slightly in her seat and he can feel her eyes on him. He doesn't have to look to know the expression on her face. She's watching him intently, her pitch-black eyes with their shimmering traces of swirling midnight blue moving lazily over his face and form. She knows his moods, can guess in the space of a breath whether it's been a good or bad day and exactly how he's seeking to rectify it. More importantly, she can smell it on him. The smell of blood and metal means he's looking for a submissive, as if using her will help him to gain back some of the control he's felt he'd lost at some point during the day. If there is nothing more under the fresh, crisp scent of his aftershave, then things will be simple. Tonight, she can smell blood on him and she doesn't mind it one bit. After a few moments of her silent scrutiny, he finally turns his head to look at her. She is lovely tonight, as she is every night they are together. The lilac sundress she is wearing makes her copper and cocoa skin seem to glow. The dress hugs and accentuates every line and curve of her 5'5" frame. The matching high heels add length and shape to her already toned legs. In the dim light, she appears somewhat softer than usual, though he is fully aware of the fact that she has the strength to rip out his throat in a heartbeat. But, he doesn't fear her, as most might. He knows a different side of her, a quieter, more yielding side. Her wavy ebony hair is brushed back behind her softly pointed ears and curls loosely about her shoulders. "You look beautiful, Eve," he offers, and wonders, for the hundredth time, if 'Eve' is, in fact, her real name. He could find out, but he chooses to let this, and so many other things, remain a secret between them. The corners of her mouth turn up into a gentle smile. Her lips are wonderfully full and luscious, tinted a light bronze. "Thank you, Clay," she says. She wants to return the compliment, but she knows he is not a man who revels in such trivial things. It, however, does not negate the fact that he is extremely handsome. With his dark blond hair cut close on the sides and in the back, left a little longer on top, and his haunting gas flame blue eyes, his attractiveness could rival any of the beauties in her coven. He is tall and lean-muscled, quiet, severely independent, and extremely intelligent. He is somewhere in his early thirties, but appears much younger tonight in dark blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. A battered and worn brown leather bomber jacket hangs carelessly on the back of his barstool. Eve watches the supple play of muscle in his bare forearm as he lifts his beer to take a long drink. Only when someone hollers out his name does Eve end her inspection of him. She turns back to her drink, using the action as a mask to watch a tall brunette sauntering up behind him. She is beautiful, in a plastic-perfect way, her hair piled high atop her head in large looping curls and her skin tight red sheath dress showing off all her many assets, including the expensive jewels resting against her throat. Her skin is pale, in that ethereal way that some people find attractive. Eve smiles inwardly as the woman drapes herself over Clay. At some point this woman might have been his type. Not anymore. Now, the young detective's tastes run more toward mysterious dark-skinned lady vampires. She's only half listening to the conversation between Clay and Ms. Plastic-perfect, inane chatter laced with sexual innuendo, more on her part than Clay's. Clay merely continues to drink his beer and only Eve notices the bored expression on his face. "Call me, honey," coos the brunette, her hand with their blood red nails lingering on Clay's muscular arm before she spots her 'next victim' and teeters off on her dangerously high heels. "Well, that was fun," Eve says lightly, polishing off the rest of her drink. It warms her insides. The feeling is delicious, probably the closest feeling to an actual feeding than the act itself. "Loads," Clay returns the joke, smiling for the first time since her arrival. He likes that she doesn't get upset when other women talk to him. Perhaps, she understands her place, or more importantly, her place in his arms. Since meeting almost two months ago, he hasn't slept with anyone else. She satisfies him, at least for now. Silence claims the space between them once more. Eve declines the bartender's offer for a second drink. She has another, more intoxicating drink in mind. Even now, she can feel her fangs beginning to lengthen in anticipation of sinking into Clay's soft flesh, his blood spurting, hot and slightly metallic, over her tongue and teeth. She can feel him shuddering against her, his climax heightened by her drinking from him. As if reading her thoughts, Clay polishes off the rest of his beer and slides it away. From the corner of her eye, she watches him dip into his wallet for some cash. He tosses the lose bills carelessly onto the bar, covering both drinks, and stands, shrugging into his jacket. Eve follows suit and within moments they are pushing through the heavy front doors and out into the cool night air. They don't speak as they walk, heading east toward Eve's house, one of many, but the only one of which Clay is aware. The night sky is clear and her eyes move over the starry expanse. Though the times have changed, have changed her, that beautiful sky has remained the same. She'll never tire of the night, like some of the others before her, exchanging it for one final blazing sunrise. The night is where she belongs. It is her home and has been such for nearly three whole centuries. It has been the best of lovers and has never betrayed her. Within minutes, they reach her place, a single story structure on a quiet side street. They move through the gate and up the front walk, lined with its dainty little flowers, still silent. Eve can feel Clay at her back. She can hear his heart picking up a couple extra beats as she unlocks the door and they move into her darkened house. She understands his excitement, his need, and if her heart were still capable of beating on its own, she is certain that its rhythm would match his. She flicks on a couple lights as they move to the living room. She has very little furniture in this place, only a single overstuffed couch and matching armchairs surrounding a wood burning fireplace. There is no television or stereo. The kitchen is stocked and the single bedroom in the back is comfortable, if only for the exact reasons she is here tonight-for Clay's comfort. "Can I get you anything," she asks, turning to stare at him as he stands in the wide archway. His gas flame blue eyes flit momentarily about the room before settling once more on her. He has the strange feeling that she doesn't fit here, that she seems out of place. Such sparse belongings, so little creature comforts. But, then again, he doesn't suppose vampires need all that much to get by. "No, thank you," he replies. She takes a few steps toward him and he is caught by the soft sway of her hips in her dress. As he has been so many times before, he is startled by the fact that her heels do not make a sound against the hard wood floor. It's as if her feet do not touch the ground. "You're coat," she offers. She lifts her hands and slides them under his jacket. Her fingers glide smoothly over his shoulders and he stands tense as she rids him of the garment. She is standing close, so close that he can feel the rise and fall of her smallish, high, rounded breasts against his chest, can feel her hardening nipples through the thin fabric. He closes his hands around her waist after she tosses his coat over the back of the couch and pulls her tightly against him. She lifts her murky eyes to his and he catches a hint of flickering shadow in their depths. Her body feels cool against his, against his own warmth and growing erection. She hasn't fed... yet. The thought excites him even more and he loops an arm around her, thinking of their coming exchange. The feel of her drinking from him, taking his very essence into her own body, is just as sweet as burying himself fully in the dark, wet place between her thighs. Tonight will be special. He dips his head to capture her mouth with his own. Her lips part to allow him access and their tongues dance and shift languidly around one another. Her scent completely envelops him and the soft moan that she breathes into his mouth calls to his own need. He pulls her in tighter, closer, lifting a hand to the back of her neck so he can angle her head and plunge his tongue deeper into the warm inviting wetness of her mouth. Eve allows him to kiss her. She kisses him back with the same passion and hunger. The warmth of his skin sends her mind reeling, sets her pussy pulsing and throbbing behind her soft cotton panties. She can taste his blood in this kiss and she fights to keep her fangs from lengthening. These first few moments are his. He will have her as he sees fit and afterward she will take what she wants, what she needs, from him. She snakes her hands underneath his t-shirt and her fingers tease over the hardened, trembling muscles of his stomach. Her nails rake over the flesh there, sliding lower until they close over the lip of his jeans. She disengages the single button, tugs at the zipper and the sound it makes is harsh in the quiet stillness of the room. Her hand disappears inside the rough fabric and she uses her cupped palm to massage his growing length through the front of his boxers. He moans into her mouth and she applies more pressure, opening her mouth wider to his hungry assault, battling his tongue with her own. She loops her free arm around his neck, raising up a little higher on her heels, pressing her breasts more fully into him. Clay's hips rock against her. The woman has quite a touch. In the space of a breath, she has brought him to full, aching attention. Her hand rubs along the length of his dick, sending heat spiraling through is body. He is anxious to be inside her, to feel her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and so much more. But, first, her mouth. He pulls back, disengaging himself from her lovely ministrations. He stares at her as he struggles to catch his breath, enjoying the sight of her kiss-swollen lips. She watches him from beneath a fringe of long dark lashes, her eyes clouded with lust, and doesn't move to reach for him again, though he can tell she wants to. She waits for an order, a command. Standing there, she puts him in mind of a cat, some beautiful jungle cat laying in wait, the muscles along the length of her silken chocolate body coiled and ready. Half her face is cast in pale shadow, adding to the feral appearance. "On your knees, sweetheart," he manages, his voice coming out on a breathy exhalation. He pulls his t-shirt over his head and notices the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she sinks gracefully to her knees in front of him. Eve likes it like this, likes the way he leads and moves her. In these moments, nature leaves her, leaving behind only instinct. And although her instincts lean more toward sinking her teeth into Clay's heated flesh, that part of her which is woman and driven more by want and need and attraction temporarily overrides the rest and there is nothing else in her mind besides having this man inside her. She sits high on her knees, licking her lips hungrily as she uses her curled fingers to tug his jeans and boxers over his hips and down his thighs. His cock springs forward and for a moment she merely stares at it. In the low light, she can clearly see the veins running along it's pale length, it's engorged head begging to be kissed, to be tasted. She can see the tiniest drop of pre-cum glistening at the tip and she lifts her eyes to Clay, gazing up the line of his body into his stormy eyes. He stares down at her, his breathing becoming more erratic now that what he wants is so close. He sees the hunger in her pretty eyes, knows that it is a mix between simple lust and the much more powerful lust for the blood that pumps through his veins. There is danger in having her lips sealed around his dick, her fangs so close to this tender flesh, and even this excites him, for he knows she would never take from him without his permission, though he knows she is capable of the most unsavory of things. This thought sends another rush of power through him and his cock jumps excitedly. "What are you waiting for," he says, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Slowly, ever so slowly, Eve leans forward. Her soft pink tongue snakes out to catch the small drop of liquid at the tip of his cock and she circles her lips with it, smearing his juices along her top lip, before closing them both around his head. To her delight, Clay lets out a rough grunt at the contact, his hips jerking back a little, but she doesn't release him. She adds a bit of suction before flicking the pad of her tongue over the sensitive underside. Pleasure ripples through Clay, fanning out from Eve's hot, wet, silken mouth and into the dark place at the base of his skull. He whimpers when she pulls him deeper, her full lips sliding smoothly over his sensitive skin and he forces his eyes to remain open, to look down as her head bobs slowly on his dick. She splays her fingers over his hips, dragging her nails along his skin while she pushes more of him into her mouth. Clay's skin is fragrant here, and tinged with the heady aroma of his blood, and Eve sucks and licks greedily at him, his answering groans spurring her further, causing her own juices to pool between her thighs. She is always amazed and intrigued at the texture of him in her mouth. The flesh of his cock is both solid and soft, hot, like warm velvet pulled taut over heated steel, and as she sucks him she imagines that same feeling inside her pussy, pushing so deep that it's just this side of pain, mixing sweetly with the pleasure. She surprises him when she takes him into her mouth completely. He is not extremely large, but well above average, and it's at times like these, when the tip of his cock is pulsing and throbbing at the back of her throat that she is glad she has no real need to breath. Clay is unable to keep his eyes on her, though the sight of her mouth on him, the contrast of her dark skin against his own much paler tone is thrilling, the feel of her deep-throating him is almost too much to bear. She moans around his cock filling her mouth, sending tingling vibrations through his entire body. His head rolls back and his hips push him deeper into her mouth. His jaw tenses and releases as she slurps and sucks, laps and licks, using tongue and lips to bring him higher. He can feel the first stirrings of his orgasm shuddering through his balls and up into his stomach, but he doesn't want to come just yet. He allows her to deep throat him a few more times before ordering her to stop. Eve slides him slowly out of her mouth, staring up at him as he tries to focus on her, to get his breathing back to something near normal. She watches the rise and fall of his broad shoulders and lean-muscled chest. His blue eyes are nearly grey now and there is a hint of something dangerous floating in those beautiful orbs. "Did you enjoy that," he asks, his voice rough. Eve merely nods. She reaches below the hem of her dress and dips her fingers inside her soaked panties. She quivers against her own touch, biting the inside of her lower lip and flicks her clit a few times with her thumb, whimpering softly, before pulling her hand free and offering him a view of her glistening fingers. Before he can say anything more, she slides those same fingers along his cock, smearing her hot juices over his already slick flesh. She strokes him from base to tip, squeezing the head once for good measure before completely letting him go. "I need you out of that dress, Eve," Clay says, and there is no mistaking the hunger in his words. She moves gracefully to her feet and he watches as she simultaneously slips out of her high heels and pushes the thin straps of dress off her shoulders. She takes a few steps back, the dress falling easily away from her body, until she is leaning against the back of the couch. She is only wearing her panties now. They are cotton and match her dress perfectly. Clay stares at her breasts as he rids himself of the remainder of his own clothing. Her tits are high and perky, the nipples like two dark drops of chocolate at their peaks and they fit into his hands perfectly when he cups them, hefts them, testing their weight before bending to take one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His tongue laves the jutting nubs and he is satisfied when the light imprint of his teeth doesn't fade immediately from the delicate surrounding flesh. His mouth suckles ravenously, circling and flicking at one and then the other. Eve moans and arches into him, her fingers curling in his short hair. He presses and kneads both breasts before slipping one hand along her stomach and then lower to cup her sex. He can feel her heat through her panties, can feel the wetness pooled there, and he grinds the heel of his hand against her swollen clit while his fingers press at her opening through the thin fabric. "Oh, hell," she whimpers, her hips pushing against his hand. "You like that," Clay says, pushing his fingers deeper, loving the way her pussy pulses around them, trying desperately to pull him in. "You know I do," Eve replies. She brushes her lips over his and nips at his chin with her sharp little teeth. She wants him inside her, but doesn't want to ask. Not yet, anyway. This is his moment and she's completely willing to comply, even if her body is screaming for him to fill her up, to make her come. "I wanna taste you, baby," Clay coos in her ear, before he pulls away and goes down on his knees before her. He tugs her panties slowly down her legs, pressing searing kisses against her hips and thighs before lifting her left leg and hooking it over his shoulder. She smells delicious, hot and earthy, and for a moment he merely stays like that, inhaling her inviting scent. Eve is beginning to feel like a tightly coiled spring and for the first time tonight she finds herself panting. Her fingers grip the back of the couch and she stares at the top of Clay's head as he sits staring at her pussy, at the neat little thatch of tight ebony curls covering it. She lets out a heavy sigh when he slips his fingers along her dripping slit and her hips buck against him when his tongue follows suit. The hot feel of his mouth against her causes heat to stir low in her belly, a hollow aching throb that is all too familiar. Blood & Metal He laps at her roughly, knowing how much she likes it, drinking in the sweet nectar her body is giving him. He circles her engorged clit, pulling at it with lips and teeth, encouraged by her moans and gasps and the feel of her nails dragging along his scalp. Only when he feels her start to tense with her first orgasm does he slip two fingers inside her and finger fucks her roughly while he continues torturing her clit with his tongue. Eve bucks against him as wave after wave of pleasure pounds through her. Clay's fingers work feverishly, sliding in and out of her pussy, pushing her through her orgasm. He breathes a satisfied moan against her sex and the vibration echoes through her, coiling tightly around her spine, causing her back to bow. She cries out and collapses more fully into the back of the couch. "That's a good girl," Clay says as he pulls himself to his full height, his fingers still buried in her slick heat. "Would you like some more?" Eve only nods, unable to speak around the tremors still racking her body. The scent of her own sex fills the air and she sucks air deep into her lungs, her hips rocking against Clay's searching fingers. She shivers when his tongue traces a hot line over her collarbone and up to her ear lobe. His lips curl around the soft flesh and tug gently. His breath is warm on her neck as he hooks his forearms under her knees. Adrenaline and hunger make her feather light in his arms. Even as unsteady as she is now, she has no problem taking the weight of her own body onto her hands and balancing herself on the edge of the couch. They've never tried this position before, amazingly enough, and a sharp thrill slithers through her. She smiles lasciviously back at Cole and shudders again as he moves his hips against her, sliding the length of his dick over her clit and along her dripping slit. He does this several times, eliciting low quivering moans from her before, without warning, he drives his full length into her. Eve's head snaps back and a strangled scream passes her lips as pleasure and pain rocket through her body. Even though she is wet, she is still very tight from her first orgasm and the invasion catches her off guard. Her pussy pulses madly around Clay's rock hard dick and for a moment neither of them move as they adjust to the sensation. Clay's jaw begins to tick and he groans, fighting off the overwhelming need to come. He lowers his gaze to stare at the place where their bodies are joined. Eve's calves tense over his forearms and the small movement pulls another moan from him. His eyes are still glued to her pussy as he slowly begins to withdraw from her. He only pulls out half way and is even more turned on at the sight of his pale shaft covered in her juices, still partly imbedded in her throbbing cunt. The next fierce thrust sends him much deeper than before. "Oh, God," Eve hisses and he nearly laughs at that. A creature like her calling out in such a way. He raises his eyes to her face once more and sees the challenge and the impatience there. Her midnight eyes are focused on him, peering intently back at him and she bites her lower lip and uses her own body weight to lift herself away from his cock. She allows her hips to drop and whimpers again as she impales herself on his shaft. For a minute or so, Clay doesn't move and merely allows her to fuck him, so mesmerized is he by the way her body shifts and writhes on his dick. He splays his hands under her thighs and helps her move, moaning his own pleasure. "That's it, baby," he purrs hotly. "Take it. Ride my dick, baby. You're so beautiful right now." She feels so hot and incredibly wet sliding over is shaft and he has to force himself to focus solely on her in order to keep himself from coming too soon. Spurred on by his words and the delicious feel of his cock sliding in and out of her slick heat pushes Eve closer to the edge. She is cursing and growling loudly as she rides him and though it feels good, it's not nearly enough. She alone can't get him deep enough. She wants it hard and fast and can't manage to do it on her own. She finds herself begging and pleading, her orgasm coiled tightly in her stomach, her pussy pulsing and throbbing. Her fingers dig into the fabric of the couch and she is vaguely aware of a soft tearing sound. "Clay," she manages on a strangled, breathy groan. "Please... please..." He smiles, knowing immediately what she is trying to say and he uses his hands on her hips to stop her movements. Slipping from her heat, he lowers her gently until both of her feet are touching the hardwood floor and, without missing a beat, turns her so that she is now bent over the back of the couch. She makes a soft mewling sound as he replaces his hands on her hips and uses his knee to part her legs wider. He takes a moment to appraise her perfectly rounded ass before driving into her once more. He hadn't minded letting her fuck him like that before. It had been hot, but it was time to take back his control and he plunges his full 9 inches into her in long, deep strokes, rotating his hips at the end of each stroke to give them both that extra bit of friction. She's growing tighter around him and he can feel her juices slipping over his balls. Eve claws at the couch as her mind begins to spin. Clay's cock slips swiftly and surely inside her pussy, impossibly deep, and she grunts in time with his thrusts as he bottoms out inside her. He seems to fill her completely, hitting all the right spots as he moves in and out of her and before long she is coming apart, screaming as he continues fucking her. Clay doesn't let up or even slow down as Eve's orgasm takes her. Instead he picks up speed and begins to pound furiously into her, pushing her forward a little as he withdraws and then bringing her roughly back against him, shoving himself deeper into her, grunting rhythmically every time their bodies connect. He watches with great satisfaction as the round flesh of her ass trembles under his assault and his fingers dig roughly into the tender flesh of her hips. "Look at me, Eve," he growls harshly, wanting badly to see her face when he makes her come a third time. He likes the idea of having this vampire at his mercy. She reaches back to grab his wrist, twisting her upper body so that she can meet his eyes and the hungry fire in their stormy blue depths causes her body to clench. For a moment, her mind goes blank and there is nothing else but the man at her back, pounding into her throbbing pussy. It doesn't take long for her third orgasm to come crashing over her and this one races throughout her entire body, wrenching another scream from her already hoarse throat. Watching her come apart this last time proves to be too much for Clay and before he can even think it, his rhythm falters and he explodes inside Eve's hot, quivering channel, his hips still pumping wildly. As their passion subsides, they both sink to the floor. It's a clumsy and awkward scene and they might have laughed if they weren't so damned exhausted. Clay sprawls out on his back on the hardwood floor, bringing Eve with him, and he lays there a long time, his breath coming out in harsh bursts and his heart pounding madly inside his chest. He stares up at the ceiling, not caring that his vision is slightly blurred around the edges. It's a bit of an effort, but Eve manages to twist herself around in Clay's arms. She hasn't felt this exhausted, this satisfied in... well, she can't remember when and she likes it. She likes the feel of Clay's sweat slick body under her. She likes the smell of their sex hanging in the air. Her body trembles, mini orgasms still pulsing deliciously through her, and she presses her ear against his chest to listen to the sound of his furiously beating heart. She enjoys this time, when one hunger has been sated and the other has not yet risen. In these brief moments, she can feel completely human again. Clay allows her to snuggle in against him. His fingers trace in wide, lazy circles over the damp flesh of her back and he wallows in the feel of her silken limbs entwined with his own. They are silent, save for the harsh sounds of their breathing slowly returning to normal and he stares up at the ceiling through heavy-lidded eyes, content to have her pressed in beside him. He knows what time it is when Eve lifts up on her elbow and slides her body along his. She nuzzles and nips at his exposed flesh and when she reaches his throat, he tenses, not out of fear, but anticipation. Her tongue traces a searing line over his skin, over the vein pulsing there and she raises higher on her arm to stare down into his face. Eve will never take from him without asking first and though the words haven't formed on her luscious lips, he sees the question in her haunting eyes. *May I?* She watches him swallow visibly, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips. His heart is beating fast again under her palm and she senses the nervous excitement in him. No matter how often she drinks from him, she is sure it will always be like this. This is the point where control shifts, when the game becomes more dangerous and although she knows every fiber in his being is screaming for him to run, to flee, he is addicted. He gives an almost imperceptible nod and she slowly lowers her mouth to his neck, where that delicious vein pulses faster. She inhales deeply and under his cologne, under the cloying scent of her own scent clinging to his skin, she can smell his blood, warm and fresh and just for her and it's utterly intoxicating. She stretches out her tongue and flattens it over the thick vein, feels him shudder from head to toe, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of her lower back, pulling her tighter against his long, lean frame. There is a different sort of need in him now, a need that nearly matches the hunger swirling inside her and she allows herself a pleased smile before opening her mouth over his skin. Anxiety wells up in Clay while he waits for the pinprick of Eve's razor-sharp teeth. She doesn't bite down immediately. She is so still over him, as her breath comes hot and soft against his neck, and only the gentle fluttering of her tongue over his pulsing vein lets him know that she is wide awake. He feels the first stirrings of arousal in his loins. How strange that blood and sex have become so tightly interlocked in his brain these days. He takes slow, deep breaths and Eve's fingers curl in the longish hairs at the top of his head, angling it for better access. He feels like prey and it's both frightening and exhilarating. He is caught off guard when her teeth finally sink home. Pain blossoms under her full lips, fanning out icy-hot tentacles that coil along his spine and clench around his heart. His fingers dig deeper into her bare back and he fights the urge to push her away as he feels his blood spurting into her waiting mouth. There is very little she can do about that initial shock and she is loathe to have caused it, but as his blood spills hot and delicious over her lips and tongue, tinged with the wheat taste of the beer he'd consumed earlier, she senses the darkness in the back of her mind bubbling up inside her and she is sure that if there is a heaven, it would taste like Clay. She drinks deeply, pushing that wonderful darkness into him, replacing his fear and anxiety with it. He sighs under her, whispers her name, before his whole body goes slack under her languid feeding. A new scent reaches her senses. All around her swirls the aroma of dry earth, a hard packed dirt road baking in the sun, and a memory twitches somewhere at the back of her thoughts, a memory that is not her own. She delves deeper into it, into Clay, and a vision of tall grass whispers behind her closed eyelids. She feels safe and... happy. Clay sighs again, relaxing fully into Eve's enchanting bite. He is surrounded by darkness, but the darkness is not complete, not like before. At the very edges of his vision flickers candlelight. The air around him is warm and fragrant and the taste of blood and ash mingles at the tip of his tongue. He can hear the soft, melodic murmur of water as it slides over a smooth surface and he is aware of hunger and thirst inside him, but can sense that it is not the type of hunger and thirst that can be quenched merely with food and drink. There is a substance to it, a heavy sense of wanting, of needing, so much more. There is no pain when Eve's fangs retract from his skin and the vision slithering through his mind dissolves around him. Eve breathes deeply, licking her lips clean of the blood smudging them, allowing the vision of the country road to recede along with the darkness inside her. She nuzzles the neat little puncture wounds in the side of Clay's neck until the flow of blood stops almost completely. Slowly, silently, she pushes herself to her feet and smiles languidly at the sight of his pale lashes fluttering as he struggles to stay awake. His chest rises and falls as he finally settles into slumber. Nights like these are always taxing on him. He will probably be out for a few hours and by the time he wakes, she'll be gone. She hates to leave him this way, but, well...it's just best she leave while she can. She dresses in silence. Her body hums and tingles as her lover's blood courses through her veins and causes her heart to beat in a slow and steady rhythm. After covering his body with an afghan, she heads to the kitchen and grabs a gallon of orange juice out of the fridge. She sets it on the floor near him and takes a moment to bend low and press a warm kiss to his forehead. She doesn't suppose he'll ever understand how much these nights mean to her and hates to have to wait a whole week for another like it, but he'll need the time to recover. *Oh, well*, she thinks, as she heads back out into the cool night air. She feels so much lighter and clearheaded. *It's amazing what a little blood and sex can do for one's mood.*