Chapter 25 Elijah
Elijah
When I first set foot in Molly’s apartment, I have to pause for how good it smells, how her it is.
She wears green trousers with little Santa hats on them, and a matching long-sleeve top.
I brought groceries, some she requested, others I picked up to cook for her.
I also brought the cat, who travelled without complaint, perhaps somehow intuiting she was headed to Molly’s house.
Molly proposed that during the five-day holiday from Drummond, we coop up in her apartment and complete a media marathon of the many films and TV shows she deems necessary for me to know as both a vampire and as a vampire pretending to be human.
I didn’t even ask what media she had in mind–I said yes without thinking about it.
Written on sheets of notebook paper are three lists, each containing different titles for us to choose from. There are over a dozen, so we have our work cut out for us.
We start with a list she titled ‘The Movies That Raised Me’, which includes The Hunger Games films, The Princess Diaries one and two, Jennifer’s Body, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and, underlined three times, The Twilight Saga.
‘We don’t have to watch all of them this weekend, but I would be remiss not to teach you about Twilight at least,’ she tells me. And so, it begins.
Over the next two days, we get through the whole of the first list, some of which I watch on her laptop wearing headphones while Molly sleeps. We also use the entirety of her two-person table to start and complete two different puzzles, pieces sorted in cleaned yogurt and sour cream containers.
Molly loves to talk during her favourite movies, plying me with random trivia.
Luckily for me, I love to listen to her talk.
I also love watching her sleep, and her studio apartment not separating her living space from her bedroom with a wall and door means that I have every opportunity to do just that.
The second list is entitled ‘Musicals’, and on Thanksgiving Day, Molly sings her way through all three High School Musical movies, The Sound of Music and finally a low-budget vampire musical called I Kissed a Vampire.
It’s all very cosy, very domestic and comfortable, and there’s a startling lack of awkwardness despite suddenly spending two full days and nights in the same six hundred square feet. As friends, of course. Nothing more.
By Thursday night, though, I am beyond buzzing from the proximity to Molly.
At some point during the last movie, I garner the courage to put my hand on Molly’s knee, a casual touch, but one that ratchets up the tension in the apartment intensely. She keeps her eyes on the screen, but a few minutes later, shifts closer until practically her whole leg is against mine.
In the corner of my vision, I see Molly lick her lips and the sight makes me tense. I’ve felt that tongue in my mouth and crave it again. All the time, actually. There is hardly an hour that goes by when I am not thinking of kissing her.
I stretch my pinky higher up her leg, then the rest of my fingers one at a time. I do this twice more until my hand is more than halfway to her centre. Her breathing has grown heavier, pale cheeks reddening in the light of the TV.
‘Molly,’ I whisper.
I see her neck move with a swallow before she slowly turns her head in my direction. ‘Yeah?’
‘I’m desperate to kiss you,’ I admit.
Molly exhales. ‘Finally,’ she says, and practically lunges for me, grabbing my neck and pulling me to meet her.
Kissing Molly doesn’t seem to be a chaste affair, because any time my lips find hers, my hands move on their own to touch as much of her body as I’m capable of.
Now, kissing her on a couch, I’m even more incorrigible, pushing her to recline, sliding a knee between her thighs and supporting her lower back while I push my tongue into her mouth with abandon.
Molly’s little sounds might make me insane.
Maybe it’s the hundred-year dry spell, but I think more likely it’s that Molly actually is a witch, a sorceress, and her power is aimed at weakening me to do her bidding for eternity. I would gladly fall under her spell just for one chance to kiss her and to hold her like this.
Molly reaches for my belt, fumbling with it and making me pant, stunned. She wants my pants off? Wants me bare to her?
The last time I lived among humans, there was courting and chaperones, chaste kisses on the backs of hands, longing glances. But Molly has said before that this is not courting. This is casual. No strings attached. Hooking up.
Friends with benefits.
I must remember this.
She undoes my belt and starts in on the button. My cock is pressing obscenely against the fabric, and I hold her hands to halt her movements.
‘Do we talk about this first?’ I ask.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Boundaries, ground rules–I just, I want to be clear.’
Molly swallows and nods, extricating herself from me to achieve a few more inches of distance.
‘I want to have sex,’ she says simply. Then, quickly adds, ‘With you.’
‘I want that too,’ I admit. Of course I want that, though the image in my mind is making me feel completely out of sorts. Unsteady.
‘I’m good with any kind,’ she goes on. ‘Oral, penetrative, whatever.’
I close my eyes and steady myself at hearing Molly speak so plainly. It makes my dick drip.
‘Also, I have an IUD.’
‘A what?’ I ask, thinking I must have misheard.
‘It’s birth control, like this little rod in my uterus.’
This horrifies me, and my face must show it.
‘It doesn’t hurt,’ she rushes to say. ‘Well, it did at first but now it’s painless. And it means it would be very, very difficult for me to get pregnant.’
Oh.
I feel a pang in my chest as I understand her meaning. ‘Vampires are sterile,’ I explain, feeling the familiar cocktail of mixed emotions working about my heart whenever I think about children. ‘It’s just one of those vampire things.’
‘I’m sorry.’
I shake my head. I’ve long since come to terms with it. ‘It’s all right.’
‘Well, it sounds like we’re really covered on the birth control front, unless you have any sexual diseases or infections we need to be worried about.’
‘None,’ I say. ‘Vampires also don’t get sick or carry disease.’ ‘Very convenient.’ We sit silently staring at each other for another few moments. ‘Do you want to?’ Molly asks, so quietly.
‘Have sex?’ I ask.
She nods.
I haven’t had sex in so many years, the thought is making me lightheaded, overwhelmed with desire and need. Molly is still mostly reclined beneath me, so I lean forward again until my face hovers over hers and then nod.
I don’t even know where to begin, but I think under her sweatshirt is as lovely a place as any.
I inch down her body and slowly lift the fabric up her stomach until the whole of her warm middle is visible to me, not just the glimpse of it I get when she lifts her arms at work.
I trace my thumb over the bottom of a blue bra and she inhales.
I stare for a long while, then glance up at Molly’s face.
She has her lower lip pulled between her teeth, her eyebrows pinched together while she watches me. Nervous, perfect girl.
I reach my hand to her mouth, pulling her lower lip from between her teeth, and I press the pad of my thumb against her tongue. She sucks my skin lightly, and I groan. Of all the many things in this world, I think her tongue is my new favourite.
I lower my face to her stomach and plant slow, languorous kisses against her skin, stopping to suck on her, leaving little purple patches on her abdomen until she pants, hands flexing on either side of her as if twitching to touch me.
I put my fingers into the band of her sweats and look up again for one more confirmation of consent, which she gives shakily before I pull her trousers and underwear down.
Goosebumps immediately rise on her skin and I rub her thighs until they lessen.
With every swipe of my fingers on the tops of her legs she tenses, until finally, I plant them on her thighs and slowly slide them open to reveal her pussy.
My mouth is dry, and I swallow some saliva to wet my throat.
I knew she was perfect, but seeing her bared open to me is almost too much.
There’s a patch of light brown hair above dark pink lips that are already glistening with her wetness.
It makes my cock ache, but I dutifully ignore it while I press my mouth in gentle kisses to the silver lines on the insides of her legs.
I want to trace every stretch mark with my fingers, memorise them.
I brush my thumb over her folds and she gasps.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks. ‘You’re never this quiet.’
‘I can be quiet,’ I say. ‘When faced with something so lovely.’
I press my index finger slowly inside of her and her lower back arches off the couch.
‘Really, very lovely,’ I breathe. I press a kiss to her clit, then another before licking up her seam. Her moan comes in unison with the grumbling sound that escapes my chest without meaning to. I can’t help it, it’s the taste of her, it runs the risk of consuming me.
I lick again, then focus in on her clit, licking and sucking it between my lips, my teeth, listening to the sounds she makes as cues to lead my attentions.
‘Perfect,’ I breathe, then slide a second finger inside her, revelling in her gasp. Undoing Molly Mason may be my new favourite activity.
‘I thought you couldn’t eat anything other than blood,’ Molly taunts, but she’s flushed and smiling. I suck her clit hard in response, making her cry out.
‘It would be a cruel, painful curse indeed if I could never taste you.’
My cock is painfully hard by the time her legs start shaking on either side of my face, her back arching and hands sliding into my hair while she comes with the most obscene, glorious sounds. I am keeping my fangs from descending, but only barely, my restraint holding on by a thread.
I lap long strokes up her centre as her breathing steadies, her grip in my hair less punishing until she lightly runs her fingers through the strands, making me feel weak. She could incapacitate me with her touch alone.
I kiss again up her body, then help her take off her shirt, and mine, before I reach behind her and unclip her bra.
This is the first time I’ve seen her tits, and they’re the two most glorious breasts I’ve seen in four hundred years on this Earth.
It’s a feat, and I tell her as much while I survey them.
She laughs. ‘Your flattery is appreciated, but not necessary. I already want you to fuck me.’
I tsk, and bring a dark pink nipple into my mouth, lightly biting and pinching the other, making her moan and writhe beneath me.
‘You’re so quick to think me a liar.’
‘You’ve had a lot of time to practise,’ she says, earning another tweak of her nipple.
She gasps and lets out a breathy laugh. ‘I just don’t see how after four hundred years you haven’t encountered someone with a nicer set of breasts than mine.
My nipples are different sizes, I have stretch marks on the tops, and the left one hangs lower than the right. ’
‘They’re exquisite, Molly. I mean it.’
I drop a long languorous kiss onto one, leaving behind a dark purple mark just to prove it.
‘Elijah,’ she says, a touch impatient.
‘Hm?’
‘I want to see your cock now.’
And, well, really who am I to deny her?