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sophieharkersdiary · 2 years

Text

April 15th continued

Part two: Entry Sixteen

April 15th continued

My little secret kept for now I was now burdened only with the discomfort of my breasts which plagued me. I did what I could in attempting to keep it from marking my countenance while it being simultaneously at the forefront of my mind. I fear I botched this badly too, for I had never been quite good at that capability to ‘deceive’ as he put it. That was a trait of his character.

I expected some comment to the matter, but it was that we descended quietly to the dining room where a suckling pig was presented as my meal gleaming and juicy with an apple stuck through its mouth so that I was distracted by what I anticipated to be a worthy and pleasant distraction from those two hot stones of pain which continually kept my breath shallow.

He allowed me to set to myself without much disturbance, a piece of reading material being his specific mode of preoccupation beyond serving me my wine. Always red and always slightly different in age and effect; this one had the strong notes of oak and apple, with spiced notes I could not place and was quite well paired with the meal.

This was a pleasant formality allowing for my ‘human needs’ to be met, though I wondered as I enjoyed the fat suckling how soon it was to be that I was the one with the apple in my mouth. I took note now too of a crate within the room which heightened my particular wondering of this. Noting the shreds of packing materials peaking from the cracked open lid.

“It’s quite good.” I remarked politely my movements slower and more considerate but my eyes lingered upon the crate, admittedly uneasy.

“Don't worry its not for you,” He remarked strangely without looking up from his papers but seemed to know the object of my interest as if he read my mind. A chilling thought. “I received that recently, but I had not thought to unpack it considering It will soon have to be repacked . Then it occurred to me it may bring some interest this evening.” He closed his book, to which I had not caught the title of, and rose in that easy way he did, apparently intending to satisfy my curiosity.

From the crate he produced a smaller box, though still quite large and within that.

A gramophone.

“I had a feeling you would appreciate it, and was hoping you would consider joining me in a dance.”

“Oh.” The sound fell out, unconvinced.

“I will need some practice.” He continued and offered his hand. I was still very uncomfortable but it was impossible I felt, to appropriately refuse him so I took his hand as it was offered and tried to keep the wince from my face as he pulled me into position of a waltz which I am quite sure I was to find he needed very little aid in.

“There is a Polka version I think, if you prefer.” He teased in a half whisper leaning to my ear, and I wrinkled my nose, and shook my head altogether a little too seriously. Knowing that kind of dance by which the movements were quite fast and almost leaping I cringed.

“Something, gentler perhaps?” I requested placed my hand in his in a manner familiar to me. One within his hand, the other at his shoulder while he took my waist.

“I can’t say you strike me as someone who requires gentle handling Miss. Harker.” I pressed my lips, restraining a smile in order to glower which hardly passed.

“And what pray tell gave you such an impression?” There was something wicked in his eyes at this and I narrowed my own.

“Its a compliment.” He assured me without giving answer to that secret innuendo.

“Even if that was the case,” For which I would not admit. “I care for the consideration as much as any woman.” He briefly turned away to begin the music and resumed his place, pulling me into step before it even began. Then it did, crackling slightly as if it was working out the wrinkles of the sheet music in that funny way.

The music was strange in the air, hovering displaced between the heat of the fire and the cooler interior were which stretched up to the vaulted ceilings, the music seeming to hover like a find mist and echo back strangely from the high arches.

“Is there something repressing that constitution I find so favorable?” Ah, and here the snake finally revealed itself about my ankles, having been only invited there by myself. I looked down at my feet as if I might see it there and shake him of, but it was an ample excuse not to answer, if only he would have permitted it. “Looking down is terrible form.” He chastised.

“And yet you claim to need practice!” I muttered, flustered and still trying to bite back my discomfort. It was strange to be touched by him in so rigid of form in such a way that it was almost proper, yet somehow this only made it a stranger and subversive encounter. For I was too aware now of that line and how quickly it might be crossed. His hand cooled my feverish one, my long fingers clasped dispassionately.

“A small deceit.�� He said, “In order to secure you.” The hand at my waist a gentle pressure.

“Ah.” We were spinning as one does for these dances and the pain was ever present. Keeping myself so Rigid, I was keeping up but was tiring quickly and I kept my focus upon his chest, attempting to block out the whirling of the room and the increasing throbbing.

I might make it to the end I thought. But we spun.. And spun.

It was then a sudden shock to feel warm wetness creeping at my front. Spreading with a peculiar swiftness upon my chest.

My step hitched and I looked up, sensing that something perhaps had dropped down upon me, perhaps water from those high ghostly arches above me…

But there was only the Count, my dancing partner who seemed to catch my genuine bewilderment and was only matched by his own. His dark brows drawing together as his gaze traced down and we swayed to a stop, his nostrils flaring delicately.

The warmth spread, and my gaze followed his, my having leaving his to bring to the spot attempting to understand.

Beneath the blouse, the wetness surged up, and those two swollen stones throbbed still. A terror of mind made me fear suddenly that I was somehow bleeding. Gushing blood . My hand flew to my breast, my eyes down in shock expecting crimson, but though there was dampness, it came away like water, something soaking through from beneath. At first there was just confusion and then as my breast throbbed, horrific understanding.

“Oh god.” Humiliation was swift and crushing, like a vice about my throat I snapped about myself crossing my arms about myself and turning away. I thought of nothing but escape then, nothing but retreat.

I tried to leave but he stopped me, securing me by the sides of my arms..

“Please don’t!” I shouted, my voice a ringing clashing cymbal to the now garish music, joined then by his wondering kind of laughter, like a shock of ice as he withheld me from my escape

“No! Don’t run away,” There was the edge of excitement, feverish to his murmur, and secured by his grip I could not hope to.

Hot tears of shame burned my eyes as even more heat gushed from beneath my dress.

Was this not Justine's same betrayal? For all she strove for goodness and virtue, she was defamed and brought low by violation at each turn. Despite the pain I pulled my arms tighter about myself.

His hand remained on my arms but he circled to face me, I felt it by the trace of his hand and the sound of his voice despite my tightly shut eyes.

“Don’t cover yourself.” He exalted again, not forcing my arms apart but ever so gently from where he now touched my forearms applied a coaxing pressure delivered by his velvety voice.

"Please, this is awful." I begged, I felt as if I might go mad, that I could not bear this humiliation as I had born the others.

"No, its beautiful- Let me see you, in your weeping virtue.”

My shame echoed hollowly with the music, which soon stopped and unable to seek escape I turned my head away. Allowing him to pull my arms free and spread them so that he might see the ‘weep’ of them swelling beneath the fabric of my blouse, hot tears soon joining the stains.

For you see I had come into milk.

Was this gods punishment? That, my breasts wept now with nourishment for a child who starved two days ago!

His gaze disseminated me to my basest parts piercing the veil of my humiliation and drinking me in gluttonously. I tried to swallow a weak sob which quaked up and burned at my throat, where it finally burst into a contraction and I swallowed around it. Despising him but also myself all the more.

Finally he released my arms and I dared look at him to see that very look I’d known to expect: smug and sensuously hungry. He leaned in, hands leaving my arms and skimming to my hips.

“If you desire a nurse mate, I will all too gladly attend to your discomfort.”

“Bastard.” I hissed and struck him one blow to the chest. Loathing him. “Whatever you did to me likely produced this!” I accused madly, for I didn’t even really believe it, I wished it was to be true. But he denied me this too, laughing.

“Not an effect by me I’m afraid. Though I have never seen such a reaction, you are intact, are you not Sophie?” Mortified I shot him a horrified expression of indignation. “Yes, I thought so.” He surmised.

"Gods punishment most likely." He snorted in disdain and disapproval of this notion.

"No likely the little runt stimulated a very natural biological response, though I've never witnessed something quite so provocative. Is there pain?” I was oddly soothed by this clinical explanation, for it made much more sense and, affording me firmer ground which to walk I regained my sanity a little by that alone.

“They feel like stones.” I admitted and sniffed pitifully, wiping my tears away and again removing my eyes from him.

I was lifted suddenly, becoming weightless, and I gasped startled and flinching to grab something secure which was of course my host who had swung me up into his arms to carry me as a bride.

“What are you doing?” I squeaked, perturbed more by instinct than anything else for I could do nothing either way.

“Don’t fuss.” He instructed and though I was not soothed, I was subdued.

I found myself carried to that all too familiar sitting room where he placed me upon the Canape. Uneasy by his silence and his fixed look upon his eye as I settled back from his grasp. He neither stood nor sat. and Instead lingered before me half hovering where he sat me, with eyes drawing me in as they had before to that welcoming vacuum, that alluring look which offered both sanctuary and pleasure. His hand came to cup my cheek which only was a little tender now, and stroked my lip with his thumb.

“Let me taste you Sophie.” He asked and followed with the sensual press of his mouth against mine. I struggled against the eagerness of my body's response for which his mouth called, the intensity in my breasts, the ache throbbing almost now to pained arousal as his mouth consumed mine, tongue seeking the heat, imploring for more than this taste. His hand skimmed that tightness of my bodice and I flinched withdrawing.

“N-no.” I said despite that lurid desire coiling in me, despite the respite offered in his eyes which darkened in frustration.

Here then was his nature, for denied by my words yet helpless bodily to stop him. He reached behind me, his hand moving up my back. With the jerk of movement he tore the fabric of my shirt, and dug to the corset below. Beneath his hand it seemed to fly apart, splitting at the laces as if cut by a dagger.

There was an aching release of pressure but a redoubling of panic.

“I thought what I desired mattered to you!” I shouted, attempting to clutch the fabric which I knew would soon be torn by force.

“Consider it taken under advisement.” He answered in a voice thick with anticipatory desire. “Turn around the necklace.” He instructed then. I hesitated, taking a shuddering breath and a few more tears leaking out before obeying.

Feeling for the object and as one might turn a mirror away from one's sight I turned God's sight away from me, allowing the cross to hang heavily from my back and not between my breasts as was I fear to become familiar to me.

“Good girl.” He pulled apart my garments like tissue paper and threw them into the fire which brightened. Consuming the fabric hungrily as he hungrily drank in the aching engorgement of my breasts, fluid no longer flowing but sticky and uncomfortable, the apples hard and flat, stretched by this invasive swelling. It all happened so quickly I had not yet begun to cry had I might given a moment to move beyond numb shock.

“You know I’ve never tried this before.” He descended fully, coming to kneel between my legs, which to get nearer he pushed up my skirts and jerked my hips, pulling me at an angle so I might be closer. Much as he did days before in the bedroom. He took my right breast into his mouth, cupping the breast as he did.

There was pain, but my body responded eagerly to this latching, coaxing suck and what there was of discomfort was layered by this strange sort of sense of soothed completion despite myself.

After an eager draw as I began to feel the flow and felt the contraction of his swallow.

He stilled and withdrew with half lidded contemplation as one might roll a tester of wine upon their pallet.

“That's quite pleasant actually. Not like blood but there is something palatable, some life essence and a certain flavor that's distinctly yours .” I returned his gaze, hateful and betrayed and his hand moved to my thigh. A cool invader working up my skirt to my thigh making me squirm with a fresh burst of distress.

“I can smell your arousal Sophie, can we not… Enjoy each other?” He asked, with that milk dew upon his lips and those heavy eyes. Instead of just tears I was angered immensely by this, by him. For all the world I didn't hate anything more profoundly than I despised him.

“My body may not be mine to control but that does not mean I will welcome this… perversion .” In response his eyes still locked upon my face as his tongue gleaming and pink extending to lewdly circled the pink swell and hard nipple eliciting a gasp as the sensation, sang. His chuckle puffed air upon the sensitive flesh.

“Then I suppose you will have to enjoy it unwillingly , but we both know you’ll enjoy it all the same.” He said, bowing now to suckle. Helpless I was lost to the torrent of feeling, loathing but unable to deny the truth in his words, my belly was tight with the aching pleasing cramp and I fought the urge to squirm. My hands first balled into fists by my side soon clenched around his head as he drew a long suck, his hand working the breast as one might work the udder of a cows teat to coax the milk into his hungry mouth.

My thighs squeezed tight, attempting to close, but only succeeding in clamping at his sides where he was nestled. My body and my breaths shortened as his hand stroked down the lengths of my thigh as one strokes a beloved pet. Drawing as he did so, the stocking and slipping higher, within the inner part of my thigh beginning again to work upwards. I could not help the buckle of my body, like the quake of a racking sob, only tied to that terribly pleasing and maddening ache seemingly tied to the suckling draws and the way his fingers circled my flesh working up… Up.

I felt a heat and dampness growing at the crux in which he diligently worked towards, fabric barred his ascent and I shuddered to feel them torn away from my body like the tissue of my blouse.

It was the slow agony of Moonlight Sonata played against my flesh with all its lurid beauty, agony, despair, and dark anticipation.

His hand had worked to the apex of my thighs and as he touched me ‘there’… It is almost impossible to describe, there was bodily delight at this new pressure that was all at once maddening as it was ecstasy. His hand working almost, rolling to stimulate in such away that my body clenched to the point of pain and clutching his head I squeezed him all the tighter as this rollicking madness and desire becoming consummate need building.

Was I Justine then or Juliet? The virtuous punished for it? Or the sinner meeting her delight?

I made a shamelessly profane noise, but I was not to wake from this dream as I had in the library so long ago where he had pinned me. For this was not that luring devouring of my mind, only my body. And here I was present mentally without the shroud of confusion his eyes had once spelled for me.

In a strange way, I now consider, that hypnotism , if that's what it might be, had offered some kind of respite. And had been perhaps on his part almost a kindness. A removal of my inhibitions which stood in the path of his desire. Lacking that he now tore through them and here was just myself, Justine and Juliette, the virgin and the coaxed whore who bucked under the adept motions of the monster who could employ his skills of seduction so artfully and I was left without the psychological comfort of submission. Here it was body and mind clashing, and the body was winning.

A queer sublimation was building within my body, which bucked like that of a rebellious unbroken filly. Squirming under the calm steady hands of an experienced trainer. I did not know what peak I was striving for only that I was becoming more desperately near it at that moment, my hands clasped his head my fingers, knotting into the thick black hair clutching at the root as I drove arched my body, but into his mouth and hands.

The sudden departure from his mouth from my breast was an unbearable cruelty.

“No.” I whimpered despite myself and he laughed again at me, his hand still working as his eyes delighted in consuming the heat of my pleasure heady with his own goading satisfaction for a moment before taking my other breast and bringing himself again to feed from the second as he had the first. “Oh please, oh please.” He sucked hard, and his hand merely rolled again, but my hips gyrated, my thighs squeezing about his body, everything as tight and aligned, my back arched like a bowstring as the final strum, the final note plucked sent me finally cascading into over that edge.

A profound ecstasy overwhelmed me.

It was like… an Immutable silence of spirit... A rapture so complete that it became an absolute amnesia of self and in place of the void of feeling, was an absence of pain so perfect. So Complete, that it was the closest one might imagine being bathed in the love of god himself.

An ecstasy of bodily absolution, I was held in suspension from time as this power moved through me, rollicking and throbbing like the most exquisite chorus, my body a divine instrument which the notes passed.

It was peace that tasted of eternity but disappeared like a dream disappears from one's mind upon waking.

Though resonating through me it grew ever duller as the noise of something travelling quickly passes, and I helpless and shuddering was left throbbing by its remission and returned back to my bodily senses.

I was still wrapped about him. His head still bowed suckling, though his hand finally ceased its coaxing motion and withdrew to my outer thigh and behind my hip as if to keep me locked to him. My body hummed with the dulcet ineffable depth of languorous satisfaction and contentment, distress of my mind was a distant call, gaining speed, but not yet arrived.

Strange then I found I was crying. Not any agitation of the mind then I think, more like the expression of milk at my breast, and the lurid slick feeling between my thighs. Merely another expression of excess, another relief.

Tears like April rain, easy and sweet, releasing down my cheeks.

His mouth came away and I was pulled seamlessly down from the canape and into his lap. Straddling his legs and brought into an embrace, his hands moving up the naked exposed flesh of my back to my shoulders as he kissed my neck. Was this the moment? And if it was, did I mind or welcome it? Where had my spine gone? My certainty, my resolve? It was melted, dissolved and in its place was boneless and a queer tenderness as I continued to weep those gentle tears like a child might cry softly. He parted to look at me, his hair distempered and askew and his mouth flush and dewy with those dark intoxicating eyes still heady with hunger and which now fixated upon this new nourishment, the tears. Can there be a more erotic visage of a man than this? I was a chalice to his thirst and nothing could have been more seductive, or confusing to me in that moment for how it lured me sweetly to the point of feeling strange affection.

He himself seemed absorbed in some tenderness, but perhaps I was merely confusing this as such, in the heated glow of that tide which I was now washed ashore of. He cupped my cheek to bring me to him, to his mouth which captured gently these little drops with his lips and tongue as he'd done upon the turret lewdly, he now supped tenderly.

He felt like a man, almost warm and brought to breathlessness from passion. This too brought another small ache and fresh sweet sorrow to find their escape from beneath my lashes. He traced his way back to kiss the prancing surge at the hollow of my neck. I was suddenly sleepy, and my mind erred, as boneless as my body.

“When you kill me, will you grow younger than you are even now?” I do not know from where this question arose, or if even it might cause him anger for the distraction. He was still enjoying my body with his lips and for a long moment I thought perhaps he meant to ignore me and considered that to be as well when finally his words hummed against my skin.

“You know no one ever asked me that?” He said, not angry or displeased but almost thoughtful and with the slow sentimentality as I might imagine two speaking docile after lovemaking. “But no, I seem to be fixed to the point in which I died.”

“That is to say you were a man once?” I was earnestly interested to discover this, though perhaps it was silly to admit it I'd had either avoided the concept completely until then.

"What did you think I was?" He asked an I felt rather silly but rallied.

"Mephistopheles? Evil in the flesh." I suggested and this pleased him and the rumbling laugh was shared through our bodies.

"Mephistopheles was nothing but a fickle spirit." He said and continued. "No, not quite. I was living and breathing once. Even I suppose, eating in just such a way from another woman a very very long time ago… In many ways some things haven’t changed.” And he cupped my breast which though still tender were not nearly so heavy or dense but in fact relieved. “I still do enjoy playing with my food.”

A lance of pain, though my tears had now subsided. A reminder of the coldness which held me, the coldness of stone too and this echoing hollow place where I was the last thing alive.

“Do you know the most unbearable thing about you?” I was returning to my torment now, my confusion. Conflicted between despising him and adoring the languid feeling as he held me... Of feeling his fingers stroke my back and the glossiness of his hair which begged fingers to neaten.

“Tell me.”

My first deep and easy breath was somewhat shuddering.

“You're charming.”

“I see.” He kissed now above my right breast.

“It's only that when one expects to be murdered, villainy is expected but it's quite another cruelty to be charming about it.”

“Shall I bring home more babies?” I felt my mouth tugging down at the corners and the first urge to leave overtook me, he must have felt the tension of the thought in my body or read my mind because his grip flexed about me as if to let me know he had no intention of allowing me to escape.

“That is exactly the sort of thing I need to be reminded of. What does that make a person when they can be charmed by someone despicable enough to eat children?” That was my own question my own torment, laid bare. That I could be brought to desire... to be comforted or charmed by such evil. What did that make me?

“I don’t eat them.” He denied tartly, only puzzling me but sighed, continuing without explaining. ”And you mustn't blame yourself, you know. I’ve had a long time in which to practice, this particular art.” There was that wicked smile which still managed to coax a tug in the deepest part of my belly. “-Though admittedly this was an exceptionally excellent first-”

“ You don’t-?” It was with queer revelation that it struck me right then that my fathers ghost was not so ghostly, and the small puzzle pieces which Marianne had left clicked into place along with that marked sensation I had felt earlier that I had not been alone here after all. Help us .

"Your not the only pet I keep Sophie." He said against my flesh and my skin crawled faintly. A pet he fed babies. I did not press because I feared he'd gain some scent of where my mind went and instead I thought of another question.

“How long, have you been alive or… Dead is it?” I asked, returning his look only a little taller than him as I sat upon his lap.

“Undead.” He corrected then continued with a thoughtful knit. “The years were more difficult to mark then but I must have died in… 1476, or 1477. It was winter, I remember that.”

I had not really been expecting this, my mind gaped at the sudden depth of that admittance.

“But that's… nearly four hundred years .”

“Give or take twenty or so.”

The mood changed from the sluggish intimacy to something less unified. My mind returned with it the feeling of shame and dirtiness now at my bodies lingering feelings of enjoyment.

“Will you take me to bed?” I asked, hoping I would not be forced to walk the cool halls in such a terrible state of disarray. It occurred to me distantly I now lacked basic undergarments thanks to the violence of his desire.

“Yes.” He said and I was lifted by his easy fluid unnatural strength, my legs around him almost able to hook at the back. It was intimate, this closeness in a way which the bridal style of carrying lacked.

I remembered my father carrying me in such a way to bed and I wondered queerly if he too remembered this as he carried me, and a small knot of anguish formed in my throat like swallowing around a stone and I tucked my head to the darkness offered by the curved of his neck feeling only rise and fall his stride.

I did not notice my room had been reached until I was being lowered and my eyes opened to receive the soft glow of lamp and the cool of a room unlit by fire. I unlaced myself and sought refuge shivering beneath the sheets. My necklace tugged reminding me of its position hanging opposite and I fingered the chain as Dracula began starting a fire in which would keep my room warm from the night. My window, I noted now was closed although I could not remember fastening it, It did not seem to matter though Dracula rose to draw the curtains closed.

“There will be crates soon delivered as I begin preparation to move. The gypsies will be attending them.” He told me and I was uncertain why. Was he concerned I would speak to them? He seemed to notice my soiled night dress as he moved returned to where I lay. “I can have some items brought for you to wear.” He commented picking up the ruined garment.

“There are times when I think simple brutality would be more endurable than this.” I told him.

“Well I suppose I might enjoy seeing you left mostly undressed.” He said and I could not help but study his face as if searching for that mark of that dizzy age I'd first seen. Remembering now the feral creature I first laid eyes on. Apparently I’d trailed off into thought because he was giving me a strange look and I realized I hadn’t answered.

“Why are you doing this?” But then I knew that didn’t I? I sighed then and wiped my tired eyes “Never mind, I know that.”

“Then why do you keep asking?” He asked sounding only a little exasperated but not seriously so as he came to perch upon the side of the bed as my father once used to before reading me a story or tucking me in.

“I think because I keep hoping for a more endurable answer, the waiting is… It's own dread.”

“First not enough time, and now too much?” He chuckled and the bed depressed with his weight as he made himself comfortable by my side. My listlessness would not abate. Too much was occurring and all of it left me so much more confused. The terror and violence brought against my body clashed with that very sames bodies anticipation for more. My mind felt frayed and I think I was just desperate for something solid, for worse or for better. Some certainty in this mire.

“Are you… Waiting for something which pleases or displeases you?”

“Is it conceivable that I am merely enjoying your company until it is no longer practical?” He offered and this was an answer in itself. I found despite this I was in fact not anymore comforted at all and looked away from him. At once terribly homesick as the room became all at once vividly foreign to me as if it was my first night there.

“Then it is to be defined by days…” Why was I so desperate for this limitation? Why must I stretch to feel the edges of my confinement when I might turn in turn in the endless dark oblivious until that last sweet moment of ignorance. “Will it be cruel or kind? slow or painful?”

“It might be kind, yet slow if done properly. It would be a crime to take you quickly.”

“If I was so precious it would be a crime to take me at all.” There it was all: my morbid self pity and vanity all at once.

I was not expecting his answer which came with a kind of bitterness of his own.

“No, out there you would be wasted, you’d shrivel, or rot or worse… Be forgotten by time, ruined before you’d ripened and discarded.”

“How easy it is for you to distill what would be for me an entire life to live between those moments, of love, monotony... Surprise!” I hated how easily he could demean what he was taking from me. But his eyes quickened with a passion I was not expecting and all almost tenderness.

“Yet there will be that end all the same. A waste.”

“Was it not you who said it was the end that was inevitable, only what is written between is of import? Yet you take my agency and mock me for trying to delude me I have any. A waste for who I might ask? Not for me,” There was that deep rooted bitterness softening his eyes as he looked upon me and I could not help but be… Stirred by that in some way despite myself. In those eyes there was a glimpse of a long dark road and the chill of some deep ache never to be soothed.

“I have been alive four hundred years , Sophie, and will be alive likely four hundred more. And you, after four hundred years have given me some very fine firsts… And once I take you I will carry you with me until the end, perhaps to the end of all things.” It struck me that his reverence was genuine, but it was the reverence spoken softly as one speaks of someone already dead, and this thought stirred to bloom the seeds which had been laid within me to fruit.

“Is everything already dead to you? Simply because of its inevitability to end and the seeming inevitability for you to continue?”

“Yes.” he said with the slowness of one never having it elucidated as such but finding the truth in it and he shifted closer to me upon the bed. I could see by his mouth he meant to kiss me, and I accepted this kiss. So much for my reluctance. So much for any goodness. It was such a good feeling though. Were all kisses like his? His were each different as if with each he bore a separate intention in mind and with it his mood.

This was a tender thing, his gentle before parting from mine to move lower to my jaw and lower still. Ever with reverence and I sensed the shift of his intentions and in my body sounded a mixed thrill of alarm as if some part of me sensed his dark hunger and responded to it the way an animals instincts might. Dread, mingled with curiosity, my breasts tingling strangely as if for some anticipation remembered but forgotten.

I felt the pulse of my flesh meet his lips which parted and felt the gentle press of teeth upon the rind of my flesh.

There was a savage puncture which made me gasp, like ice down lancing into my heart, searing through my neck and deep into my shoulder. I whimpered but the feeling soon changed, a pleasant wave of almost numbness, but nearing a euphoric pleasure spreading liquid up my body. Oh, it was a kind of sweetness. He could not have lingered for more than a moment and my mind was heavy with a sweet kind of mist that threatened to over come my vision. Even the sight of his savage face did not frighten me as I looked upon it. Teeth, and blood marked eyes, my blood blooming like the mark of strawberries upon his lips which he again graced to kiss mine sharing, as it were in my 'flavor' with a languid tongue.

‘Sleep.’

It was not spoken, I was sure of it for his tongue was pleasantly engaged. I obeyed that issuance however it came readily. Departing at the last by the feeling of that tongue and the metallic warmth of my own blood.

It is by the next day that I made this account.

Full story AO3

#bbc dracula #bram stocker's dracula #claes bang #fanfic #horror fanfiction

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my-fanfic-library · 2 years

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Just woke up after having a very spicy dream about Stepdad!Claes so feel free to flood my ask box with HCs lol

#it wasn’t really stepdad #bc he wasn’t married to my mum yet #still tho #it was a GOOD dream #great even #claes bang #claes bang fanfic

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sherlockfanficwriting · 4 years

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Dracula “Is it Love?”

Summary - Based on the spectacular new Netflix show, Dracula, a young woman finds herself rescued by the powerful Count and taken to his castle. You are not an ordinary person, and the count recognizes that quickly. The two of you are charmed by each other. Is this just another one of his ploys, or is this something else?

Warnings - danger

A/N - I adore this show and I believe all of the characters were amazing. If I was making a show or movie, this is how it would totally go. I hope everyone likes it and hopefully want another part or different stories.

You stumbled on pieces of wood and the uneven terrain as you walked along. The sky was dark and the half-moon barely gave you enough light to walk. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in your hotel, which you can’t find. You came to Romania too late in the day and you couldn’t speak the language. Your dear friend was supposed to be here, but her travel is delayed. Now you found yourself away from the town, lost in an open field with tall trees, trying to follow the map to the hotel. Worst of all, you were wearing a long cream dress which you found yourself tripping on constantly. Luckily, you wore a pair of white flats but were probably destroyed. You groaned but continued walking.

You heard occasional shifts through the forest, but nothing too bad to alarm you. You didn’t feel safe at all. In fact, you felt vulnerable, but you tried to calm yourself. You heard a loud snap and quickly turned around. You couldn’t see much, but your heart dropped fast. It had to be an animal. You quickly quickened your pace. You didn’t know where you were going, but you were panicking.

Snap

This time was louder. You began running. You slammed into trees and stumbled everywhere. Your mind was swirling. Suddenly you felt your ankle give out and something sharp ran along your arm. You fell to the ground. You winced but didn’t scream. Your ankle hurt to move, but you managed to take a few steps until falling again. You heard a growl near you. Your heart beat fast as you were helpless on the ground. You couldn't see anything in the forest but lifted your head, trying to look. You made out an amorphous silhouette of something dark, something dangerous. You knew it was an animal. You breathed hard, trying to move backward on the ground, but the animal lunged at you quickly. You passed out before you were aware of anything.

While you were vulnerable to all danger on the ground, the man who was danger itself came to you. He noticed you awhile before roaming hopelessly through the forest. His forest. He didn’t mind, but he knew you would need help eventually. He kept a close eye on you as you walked ahead. He noticed how terrified you became when you heard the sounds of the forest. He knew someone like you shouldn’t be here especially at this time. You were lost. He saw you run into the trees. You couldn’t see anything. He saw your ankle give out and cause you to fall hard on the ground as well as a sharp branch cutting your arm. He didn’t want to see you get hurt. He didn’t even know you. There and then did he smell you. The blood pouring from your arm. He liked it but didn’t want it. He didn’t want to hurt you. Before he could think more about you, he noticed the animal a few meters away from you. He couldn’t let it do anything to you so he let the animal come forward and in the speck of time, he ran after the animal, bringing it down. He looked at you lying down on the ground. He could see you more closely now. He noticed how beautiful you were. Your hair lying down toward your chest. Your eyes resting peacefully. You were different, but what was it? He picked you up, careful not to touch your ankle. He wrapped his arm around your back and rested your arms on top of yourself. Your head rested peacefully on his chest. He swiftly moved through the woods, keeping his eyes fixed on you for half the time. Your body was light in his arms as he continued. He reached the end of the forest and looked up the hill at his castle. He stopped to admire the moment. He didn’t know why he liked this, but he embraced it.

You fluttered your eyes open for a second and saw a face. He noticed you were looking at him and gave you a small smile. He admired your features. You liked his smile and wanted to say something, but your eyes closed again and sleep overcame you. He rushed up to his castle with you in his arms and walked inside the doors.

“Count Dracula, who is that?” His servant asked him.

“Someone I found, Albert. Find some bandages.”

“Yes, count.”

He walked into a large room and sat on a couch by a fire, holding you in his arms. Albert came in with bandages and gave them to him. He took them and held your arm in his hand. He cleaned your arm and wrapped the bandages around. He was undisturbed by your blood.

Albert noticed this and asked, “Count, are you feeling well? You don’t seem to mind her blood?”

“I am perfectly well. I noticed myself. Though in fact, I do question it.”

Albert stood near Dracula as he tended towards you. “Count, may I ask, do you know her? What if she tried to abscond?”

Dracula faced Albert and said, “I needn’t you worry, Albert. I don’t know her.”

Albert nodded and left the room. If it hadn’t been for Dracula’s stellar acumen, you would be left in the forest for however long. He continued to hold you and looked at your face. There was something...something that drew him towards you, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. What surprised him is that you weren’t aghast at him when you opened your eyes to meet his as he carried you up the hill. You were comfortable with him.

She wasn’t even thinking right, what am I saying?

Dracula shook it off. He wouldn’t adhere to his thoughts. You moved your body around his arms. He was now alert at your sudden movement. Your senses came back to you slowly. You smelled something enchanting. Something mesmerizing. Strong but light. You were lying on top of something. Something hard but your body adjusted itself comfortably against it. You felt something wrapped around you. Then it hit you. You were with someone. You opened your eyes to meet the gaze of a man. You remembered. He was carrying you not too long ago. His eyes were dark and matched his hair. You could tell he was surprised at you. You felt safe.

“Are you feeling well?” The man asked with an accent. You got yourself up and swung your legs off from his lap. As you pressed your arm on the couch, you winced. He held your arm.

“Does it hurt?”

You shook your head and smiled. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for this. I can’t believe I was stuck there.”

“It’s my pleasure. As long as you are well.”

You smiled again. He was charming. Especially saving you from that animal and bringing you inside. It meant a lot to you. You had to find out more about him.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Dracula.”

“I like your name. It’s interesting”

He scoffed. “I’m glad you do. I was admonished for it way back then. What is your name?”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“I find a liking to it.”

You must have stared at each other for five whole seconds before you moved. You stood up and took a step, but your ankle was worse than you thought. You almost fell down, but he abruptly stood up, steadying you. You held on to his arm.

“I’m afraid that might hurt for a while. I’m sorry to see you in such pain.” His voice was sincere and forgiving.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You managed to get rid of the pain in your head so you can concentrate on other things. Your mind was anyways preoccupied with Dracula and how interesting he was. You were charmed in every way possible. You still held on to his arm as you looked at the tall room you were in and the architecture that it was built on. It was beautiful. You had seen nothing like it before.

“Your house. I love it.”

He noticed how your eyes lit up as you looked from wall to wall. He enjoyed seeing you happy.

“Would you like to see the rest?” He asked as amicable as ever, hoping you would comply.

“Take me.” You were agog with joy.

The count began walking as you held on to his arm tightly. You limped ever so slightly, which made him feel bad. He wanted to ameliorate your pain. He walked you into the dining room. You were full of interest as you marveled at the walls and floors. You saw the table and wondered why it was so long, but it was beautiful. You liked everything about the antediluvian castle.

“I can’t believe you live here by yourself. Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Dracula smiled. “I do have a servant here. I’m close to him. It’s not bad. Not bad at all.”

He walked you to the other rooms, enjoying your reaction to each of them. He felt lively with you. Ever since he first saw you wander into the field, he couldn’t look away. You were beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman he met, but it wasn’t that. He longed to figure it out. The more time he spent with you, the more he longed for it.

“I think you ought to enjoy this place over here.” He led you near a large window. You let go of his arm as he opened it, revealing a small balcony illuminated by the moonlight. He quickly returned to your side as you held his arm. He liked it, even though you were hurt. You walked with him on the balcony.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

You stayed silent, still looking everywhere. Even though it was night, the moon seemed even brighter than ever, irradiating the earth.

“I love it. I love everything about where you live.” You were being as honest as you can be. It felt like you were in a fantasy. Dracula was a special man. There was something different about him that drew you into wanting more. You let out a laugh as you continued looking around, still realizing how amazing it all was. Dracula felt impuissant when he heard you laugh. It was a melody of bliss to his ears.

“I’m delighted you like it. There isn’t much else to see, but if you must, I’ll show you. I’m sure you are hungry.” He looked at you with a pleasing smile. Seeing your eyes continue to sparkle overjoyed him.

“I suppose I am.”

He led you back inside, closing the balcony window and walked into the dining room with you. He pulled out a chair at the head of the table, which you found odd, but shook it off as his politeness, which you admired. You sat down and he took a seat nearest to you.

“You’re feeling better, I hope?” He asked concerningly.

You still felt pain, but most of it was alleviated. “I feel much better with you.”

What am I saying? He must think I am strange.

Dracula smiled and put his head down. He adored how you felt. You continued looking at him. You felt safe and at ease with him. Suddenly a man walked in the room carrying two gray platters with lids on them.

“Good evening, Count.” He nodded at you and Dracula and placed the trays down.

“Albert, I’m afraid you haven’t gotten to know our guest very well.” Dracula said. You smiled at Albert and held out your hand. He shook it and wrapped his other hand around yours.

“How do you do?” He asked.

“I’m well. Thank you for bringing dinner. That’s very sweet of you.” You said.

Albert smiled. “Of course. Very well, then.” He walked away, leaving you and Dracula alone. He opened the lids and took your plate, filling it with ham and potatoes. He set it down in front of you but didn’t fill his plate.

“Are you not hungry?” You asked him.

“I ate much earlier, dear. You, though, you should have something.” You were, in fact, hungry and started to eat. You didn’t eat too fast. You did know your manners inside and out and acted as so. You felt his eyes on you as you ate. It didn’t bother you, but you stopped to talk to him. As soon as you met his eyes, Dracula’s mood lifted even more.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked him. It was a simple question. You wanted to hear his answer. Dracula’s thoughts processed for a mere second. He was cagey. Of course, he wouldn’t tell you what he was feeling about you. He needed something that revealed his chivalry yet upheld your charm that continued to enthrall him.

“Why shouldn’t I? Instead of showing any of his feelings, he said this. He didn’t know much about you, only a handful of things that drew him to you, but for all, he could know you could be testing him. You could be highly intelligent. He didn’t know yet. It was too soon to do anything until he knew.

“I don’t know. I can’t really find a reason why.” You said, taking another bite.

“Are you married?” You asked.

The question caught him off guard. “I’m not. Are you?”

You shook your head and finished the last bite on your plate.

“Were you married?”

“I wasn’t. Were you?”

You chuckled and said, “No.” You found it likable how he asked you the same question. He noticed this and was happy when you laughed.

“What do you like to do?” He asked you.

“For fun?”

He nodded. Giving you questions allowed him more time to study you and enjoy your presence, which he noticed did make him feel alive.

You thought for a moment. “A lot of things. I like to travel, see art, paint, the piano. Anything. I really enjoy being outside too.”

Dracula enjoyed your answer. It was modest, and it gave him more of a passageway into finding more about you.

“Do you like anything particular?” You asked him.

“Most of what you said. Lots of the time I like to be still, enjoying the moment.”

“I see you like night too.”

Dracula smiled at you. “Yes, I do.”

You smiled back at him. “I do too.” You couldn’t stop looking at him and noticed he couldn’t either. It isn’t as awkward as it sounds or even looks like. It was special. You already sprouted a liking to him and enjoyed being with him. After some time, you got up from your chair. Reality washed over you.

“I should probably be going. You’ve done so much for me. Thank you.”

Dracula’s heart dropped. He didn’t want you to go. “You mustn't leave at this time.”

You pondered. You really didn’t want to leave, but you had to be polite about it. “I’ve probably been a trouble for you.”

He scoffed and got up from his chair. “To me? No, dear, you haven’t.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

You stood two feet from him and walked up close to him. You wrapped his arms around his waist, embracing him in a hug. He was startled at first, but couldn’t enjoy it more. He wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t want to let go. You felt safe with him. Your hair was right below his chin and all he breathed in were the smell of lilacs and roses. You stood there with him for what seemed like minutes. You squeezed him tightly for a second, then let go.

“Thank you,” you said, taking his hand. It was cold, but you didn’t mind.

“It was my pleasure.” He held on to your hand as you looked at each other again. You let go to cover your yawn. He forgot about how tired you must have been and how sleep was vital for someone like you.

“You should sleep.”

You shook your head. “I’m fine, really.” Quite honestly, you were completely and utterly tired. He eyed you suspiciously into which you gave in and said, “I suppose I should.”

“I’ll take you to a room.” He began walking as you held on to his arm. You walked to a long staircase of gray steps. It was longer than you’ve ever seen. The steps seemed to become larger as you went higher. You stepped up with him, trying to ignore the insufferable pain with every movement you made. He noticed and felt terrible.

“You needn’t do that.” Leaving you no room to say anything, he picked you up and continued walking up the steps. You wrapped your hands around the top of his shoulder.

“I wish I could repay you.” You told him.

“Well, I do enjoy your presence very much.”

You laughed. He felt your body move in his hands with each laugh. How precious someone could be while alive. “I enjoy yours more.”

Dracula reached the top step and walked down a hallway to a bedroom. “I think we can settle for a tie.” He walked into a medium-sized room with a large bed. He opened the blanket and lay you down on the bed. He set the blanket on top of you.

“You’re too kind to me.” You said, smiling at him.

He smiled back and walked out of the door and said, “Get some rest.”

As soon as your eyes shut, you fell into a deep sleep that finally nourished your weariness from the day. Dracula occupied himself with nonsensical things for a few hours until he walked back up into the room you were in. He quietly stepped inside, with great celerity. He felt accomplished and joyful when he saw you. You looked peaceful as you slept, unbothered by nothing. He opened a drawer and pulled out another blanket, carefully placing it on top of you. He continued to admire you and think about you. He knew positively that he liked being with you. Having your presence nearby was comforting.

Dracula left the room and walked down into the dining room, sitting down on the same chair you sat earlier. He just thought about you and imagined certain things about you.

Albert walked in and noticed this. “Dracula, you haven’t hurt her? Why?”

Dracula’s eyes darted to Albert’s. “Hurt her? I would never hurt her. If anyone were to hurt her then it’s quite finished for them.”

“You don’t know her. I’ve never seen you like this with someone...ordinary.”

“Albert, she’s not ordinary. There’s something that draws me to her. I know this. I like being with her too.”

Albert moved closer to him. “I saw it too.”

“Saw what?”

“She’s different. The charisma. The personality. She’s different from you, but she reminds me of you.”

Dracula felt flattered when Albert said this. “You think so?”

“I’ve seen it. She feels the same way about you. She likes talking to you. She feels safe with you. She’s quite an intimate person, I can see. She could have just left, but she didn’t.”

Dracula felt something deep in his body. He liked to know that you felt safe with him. It meant everything to him as well as you feeling the same way.

“You didn’t feel anything when she was bleeding?”

“No. I don’t know why. If I did, I still wouldn’t do anything.”

“Well of course, but it seems strange.” Albert said.

“I’m figuring it out.” It was true. Dracula was figuring it out, but it wasn’t his priority.

“Do you have a plan?” Albert asked.

“I always do.”

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voxmortuus · 3 years

Text

Caged Dove

Pairing: Dracula x F!Reader | Dominant!Dracula x F!Reader | Dracula x Touch-Starved Female!Reader

Universe: BBC Dracula (Netflix) Fanfic

Words: 2.4K

GIF Credit: Not My Gifs or Image

My Masterlist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

What are you but a bird in a cage? As days go by it's like your eyes are looking through a kaleidoscope, colors are vibrant, but the shapes are abstract. Only it isn't a kaleidoscope, it's the stained glass window behind you casting such color it gives you some sort of hope that maybe one day you will see some sort of relief. You don't hate Dracula for keeping you, he feeds you, allows you to bathe unlike the others he keeps in cages, you have no further worries from the outside, he's been kind to you. But why does he keep you in a cage? Like a Dove, as he would call you as he visits you at night, he watches you sleep, at times you have a true genuine conversation. You would stay if he asked you to, you would be willing to let him feed on you if he asked you, but he keeps you in a cage.

You're sitting there, resting your head against the bars, your eyes closed your breathing is soft, arms are wrapped around your bare knees. You hear footsteps approach and you look up, giving him a small smile you tilt your head.

"Good evening, Count." You whisper softly.

"Good evening, My Dove, how are you feeling?" He asks with a kind smile.

"Like I could use the company." You state honestly.

"Well, I can keep you company." He suggests.

Nodding your head softly. "Yes, please."

He walks to the bars and puts his hands in his pockets and looks at you, tilting his head he smiles. You look over his face and let out a small breath and crawl over and place your delicate dainty hands on the bars, your fingers wrapping around the cold steel bars. You look up at him, your heart picks up beating, the moon hits the stained glass window, illuminating his face, and you feel this urge, an urge to touch, to feel him, to let him touch you. You've hit the point of being touch-starved, you're craving some sort of affection.

You reach your hand out to touch his leg, and you keep your gaze on his face, he looks down at your hand and he knows your heart has picked up pace, watching you as you work your hand up his pant leg you bite your lip and let out a soft breath.

"Did you read the book I gave you last week?" He asks.

"I did, though I wish I had more light, I would read it all day, and all night." You say softly as you move your hand further up his leg, his jaw tightens a moment before he steps closer to you inviting for more, your hand is within inches of his phallus. You could feel the tension in the pants, you begin to wonder if he's touch-starved too, you look over his face making a big move and placing your hand on his phallus over his dress pants. He lets out a soft breath. Looking over his face his eyes glued to you, hearing your heartbeat he rotates his head and licks his lips.

"What do you need My Dove?" He asks you.

With honest eyes, you let out a soft breath. "I need to be touched. I need affection, I need to feel... wanted." You whisper. "You. I. Need. You." you state with a jagged breath, feeling yourself get wet as you rub your hand along his member, feeling your core muscles performing Kegels, it was more wanting than you realized.

You had grown fond of Dracula over the months of being here, could it be Stolkholm Syndrome? Possibly, but you two had built this very unique connection, he has never given you a reason to hate him. He looks at you and bites his lip. Your other hand moving between your legs, under your white dress as you begin to play with your sensitive bud. Your breathing shutters as your other hand grips him through his pants, moving your hand along his length. Your eyes close as you rest your head against the bars. Between your soft moans, your heart beating, and your hand on his cock, his feelings were going into overdrive. He let out a soft groan, and his hands moved to grip the bar.

You unzip his pants and move your hand between the zipper and unbuttoning the front of his boxers you reach your hand in and feel his flesh in your hand and you let out a bit of a louder moan, the others in the area glued to their bars, quietly watching. Your fingers running circles just above your clit and a bit on, a bit heavier pressure. You begin to pant as you pull him from his pants and look up at him, your hand gliding over the length, you move to kneel up your hand still between your legs as he steps closer and your mouth overs over the tip. His jaw slacks a bit feeling the warmth of your breath as you lick the tip of his cock. Letting out a soft groan you take him into your mouth, but just the head. Your pussy quivers hearing him let out a moan, which only encourages you.

You take more of him into your mouth as you slip two fingers inside yourself moving them in and out as your thumb rubs your clit, your fingers soaked, this need was far beyond what you could imagine and it was starting to get to you. Your head moves faster, more with a need and desire, an agenda in your mind, but it wasn't to use, it was to be used, to feel like you have a purpose here. You let out a soft moan against his stiff cock as you take what you can into your mouth, your fingers working you the best you can wet and dripping, he smells it. With a soft exhale he looks down at you.

"Stand up, and turn around." He tells you.

Looking up you say nothing, you stand up, turn around, he puts his hand through the bars and bends you over, taking your hips into one hand he lifts your dress and shoves his cock into you while he pulls you flush against the bars. You let out a heavy moan as you reach behind you and grip the bars tightly as he begins to thrust into you. Your moans filled the attic, your moans bounce off various objects and you hear the others around you touching themselves, gasping and laughing, but you feel so many eyes on you. Your jaw slacks and your hips buckle with every thrust.

"Fuck." You whimper softly as he thrusts harder into you. Using every bit of you. He lets go of your hips and moves to grab your hands as he moves you to use you sliding out to just the very tip only to slam you back into the bars and him. Feeling him fill you to the point of a breaking point a painful pleasure, you scream as he picks up speed.

"Fuck!" You let out.

"You're not allowed to finish, not until I say." He tells you.

"Yes, Sir." You whimper, it was no problem to say what you said, you cherished the word, it was a word you felt was special, and it was so easy to say it, in your mind, this was what your purpose was, to please the Count.

With a moan and a grunt he pulls from you and spins you around and shoves his cock onto your mouth, gripping your hair in his hands, his nails scrape along your scalp and your fingers shove themselves right back where they were, only this time you're more drenched in your own juices as he uses your mouth to fuck himself with your warm wet mouth. He growls as he lets out a load into your mouth. Not even second-guessing you swallow and look up at him when he lets you go. Giving him a set of puppy dog eyes he smirks.

"Good Dove. How about a bath?" He asks you as he puts himself away and adjusts his pants.

Nodding you look up at him, dripping your own wetness down your leg he smiles and unlocks your door and picks you up, carrying you as you keep your eyes on him, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carries you with such care. Resting your head against his shoulder he carries you down a set of spiral stairs and down a long darkly lit hallway and into a large candlelit bathroom. He sets you down on a bench and takes your dress off, setting it on the counter and looks over your face, and smiles as he moves to start the water, adding a few special oils and salts to the water to make it bubble, smell good, and to make your skin soft.

As he undresses, you look him over and you give a soft smile as he lifts you into his arms and he climbs into the bathtub and holds you against him, his flesh against yours and you're not even scared of what he is, it doesn't even cross your mind. What matters most at this moment is that you feel oddly complete. Leaning against him he reaches outside of the tub to grab a sponge and begins to wash you. His other hand pulling your hair back and you relax, letting out a soft breath as he washes between your breasts and trails down your stomach to reach between your legs. Your body quivers at the touch. Letting out a soft breath you close your eyes. But it was never more intimate than when he washed your hair, the care he took in paying attention from root to tip, sitting there with you, it was silent, but the silence was welcomed due to the company.

After you were washed and cleaned he helps you out of the tub and wraps you in this enormous fluffy red towel and he looks at you. You're expecting him to tell you to go back to your cage and lock yourself in, but he doesn't, not this time, he drys you and looks over your face.

"Follow me." He tells you.

Nodding your head you let out a soft breath, almost a breath of relief as he escorts you through a door into a large bedroom with a bed in the middle of the room, candles were lit everywhere it was like a dream, some sort of fantasy. You look up at him and he looks down at you and he smiles. He takes the towel from you and places you on the bed. Looking down at you he hovers himself over you, kissing you passionately, moving his way to your jaw, your neck, where he hovers. Licking his lips he closes his eyes and moves to your chest, paying attention to your breasts for a while, lightly nipping and toying with your nipples before moving down your stomach, and your hips, hoving over your center he looks at you kissing down your thighs as he parts your legs and moves back up and places himself between your legs peering up at you he kisses your sensitive bud softly before he begins to lick at you, lapping slowly.

You arch your back and close your eyes your hands grip at the fluffy down blanket and your breath shakes as your hips buckle up. He wraps his arms around your legs pulling you closer to his face as he moves his tongue between your lower lips and feeling the slickness of your entrance and groans into you as he moves his way to pay attention to that sweet bud. You let out a jagged breath as he becomes more aggressive with the act. Your body shakes as he pays attention to you like no one else has. This is a moment where you feel like you owe him the world for the feelings he is giving you.

Your body rushes, feeling hot and warm as your panting turns into a steady set of moans and whimpers as your legs start to shake and close. Sticking two fingers into you he begins to move them in a come-hither motion as he licks and sucks on your clit and your hands ball into a fist gripping the blanket as your hips begin to move up and down as he moves with you.

"Not yet." He demands.

"Yes Sir." You whimper.

Returning to his previous activity he feels you shake and quake, a smirk crosses his lips and moves up and without any warning, he slowly starts to press into you again. Arching your back your breathing hitches and your moan echoes in the room. His acts were that of a fiery passion that wasn't what you were expecting. He was slow, he was careful, he was passionate, as he runs his hands over your body nipping at your neck you whisper in his ear.

"Feed if you desire."

Though tempting he doesn't. "I want you warm and beautiful, that is what the others are for." He whispers back as he moves to his knees lifting you with him as he continues to thrust holding you close you wrap your legs around him.

"Fuck." You moan. "My god you feel so good." your moan turns to a whimper.

With a smirk he gives constant thrusts feeling himself pace himself he growls as he holds you close and leans in and whispers into your ear. "Cum for me." He demands as he picks up speed.

You let out louder moans, your body shaking and quaking with this aching urge. As he moves you back to laying down he slides his cock in and out with such ease and great want for your finish he growls getting close to his own release you tremble and let out a heavy scream and claw at him.

"FUCK!" you release and begin to shake.

"FUCK! Good! Good Girl, my Dove." He growls with his own finish.

Falling beside you he pulls you close and you place your head against his shoulder and your hand on his chest. He looks at you and kisses you softly.

"Don't leave me." He states.

"Never." You whisper back kissing him again. "I've grown fond of you. You have given me my purpose. Please don't put me in the cage again." You smile softly nuzzling into him your hand on his chest playing with the hair you start to drift into a slumber, a much-needed rest.

"I promise." He whispers but you're too asleep to hear him. He lays with you covering you both as you sleep ever so peacefully against him.

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