Each thrust drags his belly over my cock, pre-cum slickening the movement, drawing breathless whimpers from my lungs.
A snarl is my only warning before Nikolo drops his chest to mine, burrowing his head in the crook of my neck. I can feel the tension in his thighs as he switches from driving thrusts to deep, rolling grinds that have stars exploding behind my eyes.
His forearms bracket me tight, holding me close. It’s about to happen. My body is coiled tight, desperate to feel everything. Obviously holding himself back, taking his time, Nikolo’s lips brush back and forth, up the length of my neck, before his teeth follow the same path.
Once. Twice.
And then, he bites.
I cry out with a sharp gasp. The pain and the pleasure is overwhelming. Never once does he stop fucking me, though he does slow down as he sucks the blood from the wound he’s made. It’s different this time, only a subtle shift. But like all magic, it’s about the intention. I cant my hips to meet his slow rolls. Nikolo’s lips mould themself to the shape of my neck. Each swallow is loud, gulping me down like he doesn’t want to lose a drop.
“Nikolo…” Arching my hips I beg for what I need. And he gives it to me, fucking into me with renewed focus.
The bite on my neck and the pleasure coiling through me winds together, building until the pressure is too much and I burst with a strangled cry that almost tears him from my neck. Crushed between us, my dick jerks, coating our stomachs with spurt after spurt of my cum. My body's spasms trigger Nikolo’s orgasm. I didn’t know he could latch on any harder to my neck, but he does, biting down harder with his final thrust. I’m too wrapped up in the pleasure assailing my body to notice the pain of it.
Nikolo pulls out of my ass. It’s the last thing I really register. He doesn’t move off me, though, and he doesn’t leave me. He just keeps draining me through it all, leaving me to float in the unimaginable softness of the world. Luckily my eyes are closed, because even without seeing, I know the edges of the world have begun to go black. Everything just feels different, my body feels weightless, and yet, made of solid lead. I am here, and yet I’m gone. I teeter in a liminal space—everything and nothing all at once.
The only thing that’s real, is Nikolo.
Until he begins to fade, too.
“Willan!Willan!Baby, you need to listen. You need to drink now.”
Home calls to me. It’s hard to focus in the strange place I find myself drifting in. It’s warm here. And impossibly dark. But safe. Nothing can touch me here. Except home.
Home is pressing against my lips. Something bright and sweet. I open my mouth to a flood. It coats my tongue, sparking something at the first touch.
Knowledge. Hunger.
I need more; I need it all.
Fastening my lips to the source, I suck like it’s the fountain of life. I think it could very well be. The guttural grunt feels like it comes from me, but it doesn’t sound like me at all. I bat away the thought and suck harder.
My mouth hurts. No. Myteeth, my teeth hurt. My chest hurts, too, an empty ache that feels like it can only be fixed by the delicious taste of whatever I’m drinking. Something—a hand? Definitely a hand, strokes my hair, reminding me of the existence of the rest of my body. Arms and legs, hands and feet. I have them all. As I remember their existence, I can feel the body beneath me.Home.
“That’s it, baby. I got you. Keep going.”
A hand runs down my spine. Gods, it feels so, so good, I lean into the touch.
The more I drink, the better I feel. Less floaty, more real. The world becomes tangible again and the taste in my mouth is less ethereal.
It’s still delicious, though.
And Home. Home is… Home is Nikolo.
My eyes spring open, and I instantly regret it. The lamps are brutally bright after swimming in an ocean of black. Nikolo’s wrist is against my teeth—my sharp fangs—and his blood is in my mouth. I try to pull off, to say something, anything, but he doesn’t let me, holding his wrist firm.
“You’re back. I’m so glad you’re back. Don’t talk yet. Just drink.”
My eyes adjust enough to see the pink tracks streaking from his eyes. Dried tears while he waited for me. A slight tremor rocks my hand and I feel unsteady. My body feels both familiar and brand new, but I still reach up to stroke the remnants of his fear.
The last thing I can remember is him fucking me into oblivion, and his mouth on me. He’s moved us—wrangled us beneath the comforter, my body next to his, tangled together so he can hold me. It can’t be comfortable to hold his arm the way he is to feed me, but he does it willingly, watching me so intently I think he can see all the way to my spirit.
I drink until the aching pit in my chest eases and he finally lets me detach.
“How do you feel?” He asks, hands stroking my body tenderly.
“I… I think okay?” I try moving, but it feels remarkably similar to when I was sick all those months ago and Nikolo took care of me. At the memory my eyes begin to burn, Nikolo’s beautiful face turning a blurry pink.
