THE CRIMSON FLOW

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Chapter 9.2 - FROM THE DAY I FIRST SAW YOU

Moonglow flooded into the room, its rays sliding over Cain’s body, contouring his olive skin in a silver outline. With his chest heaving and pulse racing, his anticipation was palpable as he studied the woman lying in his bed.

Becky peeled back the sheet; the invitation clear. A sigh, soft and a little timorous, fell from her lips.

Cain’s eyes, fluctuating between warm brown to deepest black, absorbed every detail - her body was awash in the moon’s misty rays; hair and skin infused with celestial light. Checking every injury, every perfect imperfection upon her skin he was happy to see her wounds had healed favourably, far better than he’d expected or even hoped.

Then his eyes glided over her soft, full breasts, the nipples pert, inviting. An impromptu sigh escaped Cain as his gaze continued down over the small curve of her belly and then lingered, longingly, upon her most sacred place. A distant need called; nerves sparked, igniting, and deep-buried desires began to stir.

His ragged jeans landed in a crumpled heap on the floor then he climbed into bed, sliding over beside her, his heart hammering.

Becky inched forward, her hand reaching for him. Her fingertips fluttered upon his skin, tracing the muscles of his arms and torso. Involuntary flexes rippled across his chest as her sensual, intimate journey continued.

Whether mere memory was firing all cylinders, or forgotten sensations had been reawakened by her touch, he knew not, but Cain could not deny the exhilaration coursing through his body; it was intense, potent, all-consuming and each new trigger was wholly welcomed, eagerly received. He felt oddly energised and anxious at the same time.

His eyes never left Becky’s face as she continued her sensory exploration of his body. Her mouth slightly open, she nibbled at her bottom lip - sweet anticipation - while her eyes, bright, almost iridescent, followed the path of her fingers.

She seemed strangely in awe of him, a homage he could not understand - he did not warrant such adoration. Marked by God for a heinous crime, Cain perceived himself as a monster, an abomination. Yet, when Becky looked at him, he almost believed what he saw reflected in her eyes; a lonely, tortured man simply yearning to love - and be loved.

Becky’s fingertip journey changed direction, lightly tracing over brow, cheek, jawline, and then lingering on his mouth.

He reached out, brushing aside her hair, tender, attentive. Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, he drew her forward until their lips were hovering mere inches apart. Strong urges battled within; the wish to be gentle, loving, fulfilling Becky’s needs, yet lying in wait, there was his vampiric nature; wanting to feed, consume, devour. The menu before him, however, did not consist of his usual aperitif. No. This was pure, wholesome and true. As such, he wanted to give instead of taking. He was ready to surrender.

His mouth closed over hers, at first soft and gentle, but as she yielded, falling into his embrace, the kiss became deeper, more urgent. Pulling her closer, his hands kneaded her skin, fervent, covetous; he loved how she felt in his arms.

Wonder flooded him and he pulled back to look at her. She gazed up, eyes misty, adoring, her lips slightly open, smiling. This woman somehow managed to bestir forgotten, torpid senses thought lost to the ravages of time. What strange alteration had occurred to enable this - phenomenon? Astounded and enthralled though he was, it did not warrant further consideration; he simply never wanted it to end.

His mouth claimed her lips again, possessive, and he steered her down upon the bed before he pulled away once more, propping himself on one elbow. His fingers then followed the outlines of her body. How he marvelled at her curves and the velvet texture of her skin; the way it rose and fell with her breathing - shallow, fevered, expectant.

Goosebumps dimpled her skin as they spiked, responding to his touch. Rosé droplets streamed, flowing towards the fine down which rested neatly between the tops of her thighs.

He slid down, caressing her nipples, bringing them erect. Kisses, soft and lingering, made them pucker all the more, his mouth closing over each, in turn, while he gently squeezed her breasts. Her lascivious moans were music to his ears.

Continuing his journey, his mouth brushed against her belly, tongue dipping into her navel, swirling, provocative, giving rise to tiny involuntary tremors. His hands slid to her hips, gentle pressure applied, thumbs smoothing the soft flesh running to her pubic bone.

Becky’s fingers weaved through his long hair, urging him further down still; her sighs and whimpers an indication she craved his caresses. Following her lead, he gently massaged the tops of her thighs, peppering them with feathered kisses, then pushing her legs wider apart he licked the exposed fleshy mound. Inhaling, slow, deep, he delighted in her womanly scent. Another gift.

Nudging a little further, his tongue lapped her femininity, then he tasted the sacred ambrosia within.

Tremors coursed through Becky’s body, making her moan, salacious, as he continued to tease her clit with his tongue. When his lips brushed over her sensitive nub, she opened herself wider, wanton, yielding. Noting her submission, Cain slid his tongue inside. Gripping her hips, he held her in place as he drew forth her sweetness, sucking, lapping hungrily, relishing the intimacy.

Intoxicated, her rapturous cry stole into the air, its resonance binding them within a sonic embrace. Her legs drew up, tight, then slowly, gradually, she relaxed, trembling, utterly beholden to her lover’s touch.

Lifting his head, Cain looked upon her face. It was bliss personified. Becky’s tongue slid across her lips, creating a glossy coating in its wake. With her eyes closed, lips moist and a warm, rich flush to her skin, she radiated pleasure, fulfilment.

Time seemed to halt, capturing a unique moment - Becky’s signature melancholy was drifting, forsaking her, ghosting away upon effervescent wisps and setting her free. Her eyes opened, languid, desirous and her smile beckoned Cain once more.

Flesh against flesh, he slid up over her body, giving rise to new heat, new desire. He applied feather-light kisses to her skin as he journeyed over her midriff, breasts, neck and lips. As their limbs entwined Cain framed her face in his hands and kissed her, long and deep.

Taking Becky with him, he pushed up into a sitting position. She wrapped her legs around his hips as his arms enveloped her, ensurient, stating his claim. Desire, all-consuming, he drew her tight; her breasts pressed against him; soft flesh against hardened muscle. Her sighs were lost, absorbed by his kiss.

All other sounds melted away, only their hearts could be heard, pounding, beating against each other; synchronised, rapid and strong.

He could no longer deny how he ached for her, and at that moment, he knew; Becky would survive. She would be able to withstand the change - just as Melantha had foretold;“One day, Cain, you will find another, one much stronger than me... And you will know that truth when you hold her.”

A feeling, once considered revoked for all time, suddenly overwhelmed him — he knew love once more - infinite, timeless, unconditional. His mouth claimed Becky’s again and she responded lovingly, devotion flowing from every pore.

Tenderly cupping her face he drew back a fraction. “Drink of me,” he whispered, imploringly, his breath hot and heavy. She nodded, eager to gratify. He inched back a little further and dragged his nails across his chest creating new incisions. The lesions gave passage to fresh crimson rivulets tracing down his torso; their path hindered only by the deep ridges between his tight, hard abdominals.

Engrossed, he watched silently as Becky’s palms moved round and flattened against the planes of his chest. She studied the lesions; they were already starting to heal, their offering trickling, depleting. Her breath ghosted against his skin, prurient and needful. Her fingertips created swirls within the fluid which still marked his flesh. She leaned in and drank, her tongue probing the lacerations he’d inflicted upon himself.

Cain groaned, cradling her head against him. He could feel his essence flowing into Becky’s mouth and her eager acceptance of the life he offered - the exchange. Equally, he was aware of the preternatural vitality spreading through her; he knew she felt more alive than ever she had.

A mere brush of his fingertips lifted her face, and their eyes locked. The purity of her devotion almost made Cain weep.

“Do you regret bringing me back from the brink?” she asked him, a look of worry fermenting in her eyes. She licked the coppery-flavoured residue from her lips.

Her question, while validated because of his prior reluctance, made his heart constrict. He smiled reassurance. “No, and I hope you do not come to resent me for giving you this life.” He folded his fingers around her hands, drawing them to his mouth, his lips brushing over her fingertips.

“Never,” she said, rapturous, dewy-eyed, her breath ghosting against his cheek. “Let me please you now.”

Cain smiled, affectionately running his forefinger over her cheek and jawline. “You already have -” he whispered. “- from the day I first saw you. And you continue to do so.” Then, with an apologetic shrug, he added “It seems, however, not all amatory responses have yet awakened. Be patient. I’m sure, in time...”

Becky’s lips brushed against his - soft, accepting, a silent understanding conveyed in her kiss. She fell into his embrace as they lay back down. Soon she slipped into a contented slumber, her breathing like a purr against his chest.

Cain lay, his eyes fixed on the Chicago skyline. Indigo began to slowly yield with tones of fuschia and autumn gold; the first whisper of dawn approaching. It had been an eventful evening in many ways.

With Becky secure in his arms, Cain’s mind was reeling; still coming to terms with the ‘awakening’ of his carnal desire - although there was still room for improvement - the toll of being a vampire - at least of one so ancient. A perfunctory grin tweaked his mouth. It was not all going to happen at once; perhaps not even in a week or a month, but desire had been reignited, of that there was no doubt.

Perhaps he’d simply deemed himself undeserving of such pleasures and had subconsciously closed himself down for all those eons? It was feasible; he had done similarly for long enough with his aversion to sunlight.

He sighed, content, happy, and looked down at Becky as she lay snuggled against him. Both of them needed time to adapt; Becky to her new ‘life’ and its purpose, consequence, requirements and he to his blissful emotions, which she had brought forth anew.

But, time was precisely what he and Becky would share now. Plenty of it. Yet, they lay, holding each other as if there was no tomorrow.

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