Blood Tint ~ Part 18

{Start with Part 1}

Blood Tint ~ Part 18
“L-like this?” Moisture from Neave’s cunt dripped between my curved fingers. I pulled her back against me so she could feel my own arousal. She arched to my guidance, head turning unconsciously to expose her neck to me. I almost bit her right then and there.

“Yes,” I hissed, “I want to feel you paint, see what you see.” I slid a finger between her folds and a tremor went through her as her muscles gripped it tight.

“I’ve never…” She didn’t complete the sentence. I pinched her nipple gently through her shirt.

“Paint,” I said, my cheek to hers, my hips pushing her into my hand.

Neave painted. I gave her the freedom she needed to change brushes or pigments, but my hands were always on her, tracing her skin, caressing, delving into her. The three figures on the canvas, so clearly herself and Daci and I, but also indistinct and abstracted. I wondered who would be able to see it outside the three of us. Neave’s hand remained steady, methodical, pausing when her body forced her to buck or grind against me. I watched minutely as my hands and hers worked and, for brief moments, I caught a glimpse of what she saw, the paint and figures gaining a depth and life I’d never seen, nor imagined. It was beautiful.

I didn’t try to disrupt her, but I wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t stop. I was as caught up in our painting dance as she was. It was her quickening breath and slowing strokes that told me how close she was. Still entwined in her perceptions, pleasure and color and texture beginning to blur together, I pulled her tight to me, slid in two fingers slowly, deeply, whispering,

“Come for me, Neave.”

Neave answered with a cry and the clatter of a dropped brush, and a hot flood against my fingers. The surge of her body lit me up from inside, and I held her as she shook with release.

“F-fuck me Alak…”

She was still gasping, still squeezing my fingers as she forced the words out.

I didn’t need to be told twice.  Still holding her against me, I freed a hand to force my pants down far enough. Neave shifted her feet farther apart, arching her back and pushing her ass toward me as she reached down between her legs and grasped my shaft. Now it was my turn to gasp, at the strength and need in her grip and the hot kiss of her cunt as she placed me at her slit. She kept her fingers there as I lurched forward, feeling me plunge in, letting out a deep, satisfied moan. Her cunt _rippled_, fluttering against my advancing cock, making me answer her moan in kind. One arm wrapped around her chest, the other splayed low on her belly, I began to fuck her.

Mewling, open mouthed, body trapped against me, Neave reached forward for a clean brush with one hand and back to my head with the other. She grabbed my hair above my forehead with a hard, earnest grip and pulled my head to her bared neck.

“Please!”

It was a cry, a command. I obeyed. I opened my mouth against Neave’s hot neck, my fangs easily finding their last point of entry and, my mouth filled with her tang, as her belly filled with my cock. Oh, it was so good. I felt her, Neave, all around me, inside me, familiarity, comfort, heat washing through me in intoxicating waves. I swallowed her and thrust deep, dimly aware of bristles insinuating between my lip and her neck, brushing against my teeth and coming away red with her blood.

My eyes followed her hand, steady despite my next thrust, and my next, and I sucked more of her into me as she touched the canvas with it, painting the lips of one of the figures in the portrait. My figure.

I swallowed her down, growled and came, biting and fucking harder, deeper as her essence merged with mine. Her cunt clamped down around me with an exquisite brutality as I poured into her. She screamed in my ear and in my blood, our bodies wracking and shuddering in pulsing unison. There, then, I touched the completeness I’d felt in Daciana, full of two souls intertwined, and how I wanted to hold on to it.

I could – just a little longer. Just a little longer, though too long would snuff the source of that flame. For a few more moments of perfection, I could consume her, and kill her, have her and lose her in a handful of heartbeats. Centuries of discipline forged into instinct saved us both, forcing me back from that ledge. But oh, the desire to leap never lessened.

Minutes later, I lifted her limp form, cradling her in my arms, and carried her to her bed. My senses were so alive, I felt the air part and move around us, heard the gentled beat of her heart. I swear I smelled the electricity of the lights.

I laid Neave down and covered her with her sheet and blanket. Through half lidded, sleepy eyes, she watched me, a little smile on her lips.

“I feel so…,” she said.

I chuckled.

“I know. I do too.”

“When will I see you?” Her eyes kept closing.

“Quite soon, I think,” I said kissing her lips, then forehead.

She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, then, with a slow breath, was asleep. I watched her for a while, feeling her peace – the echo of her in that space inside me. She rang so true there, so comfortable, so… familiar.

_That_ was puzzling. Appearances can find resemblances over the centuries, but spirits? A mystery. A warm one, though, because she felt so damn good inside me. I’d have to think about it some more.

I left the way I came in, and took the long way home over the roofs of New York.

{Continued in Part 19}