Chapter 29 Elijah
Elijah
In today’s lesson in humanity, Molly took me to a Broadway show–a masterful production with such talent on display I found myself moved to tears multiple times.
Molly loved it, gripping my hand in the tight theatre seats, checking my face for my reactions, and tearing up too when we all stood to clap for the cast after the show.
Some sort of horny demon possessed her afterwards though, because on the train she put her mouth next to my ear and whispered all the things she wanted me to do to her.
I tried not to react, but eventually had to readjust my cock in my jeans for all the filthy words she muttered about what we could get up to tonight.
The walk from the train to her apartment feels charged, a current zipping between where our hands are held between us.
Before the door’s even clicked shut behind me, Molly’s legs are around my waist, her mouth moving against mine.
I kiss her back hungrily, one arm holding her up and the other sliding into her hair.
She keeps telling me I’m not supposed to run fingers through curls like I do, but I can’t help myself–her hair’s so soft and often warmed by her neck.
Plus, she always moans into my mouth when my hands find their way into her hair, and little else feels quite so electrifying as her hands gripping me likewise, pulling roughly at mine.
‘God, you taste good,’ I murmur. ‘These jeans make me feel unwell.’
‘Mm? That doesn’t sound good,’ she says while I kiss down her jaw, her neck. I reach her bed and drop her onto it, bouncing once with a giggle.
‘It’s very, very good,’ I tell her, and trace my fingertips up her thighs, around her groin, then to the button of said jeans, which I undo easily. I unzip the trousers and groan at the glimpse of crimson panties beneath a tiny white bow in the middle of the band.
Molly props herself up on her elbows and unbuttons her shirt to reveal a matching bra, so bright against her pale skin. She has constellations of freckles across her chest and shoulders, and if I had forever with her, I would count and kiss every one.
I put my palms on her stomach then slide them up her sides, over her bra, her chest, her neck.
Molly tips her chin back as I do, goosebumps covering her skin.
I lean over to press a deep kiss to her mouth, then pull back to strip her jeans from her body.
The little bows make me feel like she’s a present, an early Christmas gift just for me.
I feel up and down her smooth legs as I survey her body, her soft belly that I’d like to leave hickeys all over, her strong thighs.
I stroke over the fabric covering her pussy and grin when I find it damp already.
‘Elijah,’ she says, a little breathless.
‘Hm?’ I increase my pressure on her clit, circling the way I know she likes
‘Your fangs are out again,’ she says. I quickly close my mouth, my fangs nicking the inside of my lip and healing over a moment later.
‘Sorry,’ I say, trying to rein it in best as I can. It feels fruitless when I can only think about feasting on her pussy until she comes so prettily around my fingers.
Molly pushes up on her arm and grabs the front of my sweater before pulling me down. I stumble onto the bed above her, my cock pressed against her thigh.
She tugs me down until I’m just above her, then uses her thumb to push the side of my mouth down, looking with fascination at my lower and upper fangs. Fascination and what looks like her own hunger.
‘So it wouldn’t turn me into a vampire if you bit me?’ she asks.
‘It wouldn’t,’ I say tentatively.
‘And it would feel good?’
My mouth has gone completely dry. I swallow and then nod.
‘And you would like it?’
I shudder, my body reacting intensely in anticipation at just how much I would like it. I have to grip her comforter to keep from sinking my teeth right into her neck, stretched and unblemished for me.
‘I can’t,’ I say.
‘Why?’ she whispers.
‘It’s not safe,’ I lie. I would never hurt her, and the wry smile she gives shows me that she knows this too. ‘What if I couldn’t stop?’
‘You self-isolated for a century; I would give your self-control more credit.’
‘It’ll scar,’ I tell her, truthfully. My saliva would heal the bite nearly immediately, but a faint, pearly white scar would remain.
My cock throbs at the thought of marking her more permanently than the fading hickeys I’ve left on her body.
I resent the impulse, my desire to claim her, have her, make her mine, mine, mine.
I clear my throat and shake my head. I’d been staring at the slope of her neck, where I can see her heartbeat.
‘I want you to do it,’ she says. ‘I want you to bite me. I want to know what it’s like.’
‘Molly…’
‘Please, Elijah,’ she says.
The word please on her lips is my undoing. I think I would give her anything if she just said please.
Biting Molly–feeding on her–is wickedly dangerous, teetering on the precipice of control and oblivion. I trust that I won’t hurt Molly, but I need to retain some control of my senses and her hands on me, rubbing my body, my cock, might be too much.
‘You can’t touch me if I’m going to do it.’ I grind my hard length up her centre as I speak. Molly whines but does as I say, fisting her comforter in both hands. Her chest arches to brush against mine and I squeeze her hip until she stops rubbing her perfect tits on my chest.
With my open mouth barely above her skin, I lick the spot, and she shakes with chills then takes a shuttering breath.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask, barely audible.
‘Elijah, please,’ Molly says again.
And that’s it, isn’t it?
My teeth aching in my mouth, I bring them to her skin so slowly, scraping against the surface.
There’s the slightest resistance, then give as my teeth slide into her skin as I bite.
Molly gasps at the first prick of pain, then her hot, sweet blood, flows from her vein into my mouth, coating my tongue with the most delectable flavour, one that makes me groan as I drink deeper.
Tension floods from Molly, leaving her languid and pliant beneath me, and when her chest arches into me again, I slide a hand beneath her back and pull her closer, tighter against me.
She lets out the softest mewing noises while I drink from her, every cell of my body feeling ignited and electrified at this taste of Molly, Molly, fucking perfect, resplendent, wonderful Molly.
For about three hundred years, I fed exclusively from humans directly, but I can confidently say that not a single one of them tasted like this, like my being has been missing something crucial and that thing has been her.
I would’ve waited another hundred years alone if I knew at the end I would get this. Molly.
I don’t know that I will ever have enough.
I think I could drink and drink and still hunger for Molly June Mason, but I force myself to stop, taking my teeth from her neck and licking it to close the wound.
We’re both panting when I pull back, her blood still on my mouth.
She reaches up and runs her fingertips against my lower lip then looks at them, rubbing her thumb against the blood and saliva she picked up there.
‘Is it gross that I want to kiss you?’ she asks and I close my eyes on the groan that escapes me. I wipe my lips as best as I can before dropping my mouth to hers.
No-touching rule forgotten, Molly squeezes her hands between us and works my cock out of my jeans, taking it in hand and guiding it towards her entrance.
‘It felt good,’ she says between kisses. ‘Why did it feel so good?’
I lurch my hips forward, meeting no resistance as I slide into her, and we both moan.
‘It’s the magic, darling thing.’ I’m not lying or oversimplifying–the same magic that made me also makes humans weak to my bite.
‘Did it–was it good? Did you like it?’ she asks, panting.
I laugh a sardonic sound between us. ‘Did. I. Like. It?’ I ask, each word punctuated with a thrust. She makes a helpless sound and I keep on at my relentless pace. ‘I won’t need to eat for days, and no blood will ever compare again. I mean it–you’ve ruined me.’
‘You say that to all your lovers.’
I reach between us and pinch one of her nipples hard, making her gasp.
‘Molly, baby, you sound jealous,’ I say, and have to squeeze my eyes shut and halt my movements to keep from coming.
‘My bed has been empty for a century. Is that what you want me to admit? That I vowed an eternity of celibacy before I met you? Because I did.’
‘Elijah,’ she moans, and I lean back to rub fingers over her clit in punishing circles.
‘You’re like the sun, Molly, and I’ve been in the dark for a very long time.’
She clamps down on me while I speak, her body shaking and convulsing and I take it as permission to find my release inside of her, her blood coursing through me, my cum filling her.
Afterwards, I pull her to lie on top of me so I don’t crush her under my weight. She catches her breath while pressing little kisses onto my chest.
My cum still on her thighs and her blood smeared on my chin, I can see clearly that I’m fucked, really and truly screwed. I knew I was in too deep with Molly, but there’s no pretending that I’m not completely and utterly lost for her.
It’s as horrifying as it is inevitable.
I love her. Every little thing.
It won’t be long before I have to leave, before I can’t keep pretending this is nothing.
But not now, not tonight. Not when I can still taste her as I hold her in my arms.
Pressing a kiss to her curls, I close my eyes and feel her heart rate settle down.
Molly wakes in the night for more sex, crawling onto my lap and riding me to an orgasm so fast I should be ashamed, but it delights her.
We shower afterwards, and both inspect the light scar on her neck.
It’s easy to miss–just four small slices from my fangs.
I kiss them, lick them and make her come again, and then she eats leftovers of the chilli I made her last night.