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Jun. 29th, 2006 | 11:40 pm
mood: 
crazy
Continued from here.
I swallow, and swallow, and it's as if I've been drinking from him since we met. As if he's inside me, and I feel him racing along, spreading through me, escaping through the mess of come in my lap and sinking in down my throat.
The taste of him is so sweet. Just like before, but better this time. Nearly straight from the source. I can taste the champagne and the steak, his lust, his release. I can taste everything...
Wesley. I drink, feeling the hunger that's been there for so long... The taste of human blood, oh so willing human blood, with fingers curling into my hair, neck arching to my mouth, giving me more and more... the perfect wanton victim swooning in his dark lover's embrace. I fall deeper and deeper into the empty ache of hunger, needing to fill it, needing to make it go away for once. I lean into the heated, lusty body draped against mine... And there's the tiny lilting murmur of adoration for his savior, Angelus.
No, not Angelus. Angel.
My fangs retract nearly instantly. God, what did I do?
Pulling back, I cup Wesley's head, my brain coming out its haze of the past, and whisper, "Wes?"
The fear running through me is ice cold. Enough to make his blood feel like shards of glass in my veins. I've got no idea how long I've been drinking from him, and his blood smells so heavy in the air. Oh dear, God.
My mouth goes dry and I try to make sense of things enough to listen for his heartbeat. Wes. Wes, where are you?
I swallow, and swallow, and it's as if I've been drinking from him since we met. As if he's inside me, and I feel him racing along, spreading through me, escaping through the mess of come in my lap and sinking in down my throat.
The taste of him is so sweet. Just like before, but better this time. Nearly straight from the source. I can taste the champagne and the steak, his lust, his release. I can taste everything...
Wesley. I drink, feeling the hunger that's been there for so long... The taste of human blood, oh so willing human blood, with fingers curling into my hair, neck arching to my mouth, giving me more and more... the perfect wanton victim swooning in his dark lover's embrace. I fall deeper and deeper into the empty ache of hunger, needing to fill it, needing to make it go away for once. I lean into the heated, lusty body draped against mine... And there's the tiny lilting murmur of adoration for his savior, Angelus.
No, not Angelus. Angel.
My fangs retract nearly instantly. God, what did I do?
Pulling back, I cup Wesley's head, my brain coming out its haze of the past, and whisper, "Wes?"
The fear running through me is ice cold. Enough to make his blood feel like shards of glass in my veins. I've got no idea how long I've been drinking from him, and his blood smells so heavy in the air. Oh dear, God.
My mouth goes dry and I try to make sense of things enough to listen for his heartbeat. Wes. Wes, where are you?