Gypsy
By Neko

A short one-shot vampire story. This one isn't incest, I promise. Please, no requests for continuation. Reviews are welcome, constructive criticism and praise alike. No flaming, though. And no "omg i hav ur babyz u is so awesomz", because while that is flattering it really doesn't help me grow as a writer.

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Eyes flashing a brilliant green, she smiles at me and beckons me to follow her through the curtained doorway.

Enchanted, I follow after her, watching the end of her dark braid swing behind her as she moves, hips swaying, faster than I can follow her, through beaded curtains and flowing silks. My gaze is caught by the bright colors, following the sound of her belled footsteps when I lose sight of her.

Children sprouting underfoot, impeding my motions, dark-haired and bright-eyed and clothed in scraps of silk and suede, but my eyes are only for her. Flowing hair and singing bells, and I chase after her again, her bare feet making no sound against the hard-packed dirt underfoot.

There doesn’t seem to be an end to this maze of pathways, and her laughter is like the bells around her ankle as she evades me with practiced ease in this unfamiliar territory.

Finally I catch her, or perhaps she catches me, in a dead end room, open sky above, her back pressed to the wall, her cheeks rosy and eyes bright with mirth.

Her skin is dark and her hair darker, barefoot and heathen and forbidden, and as my hands slide against her shoulders I pray for forgiveness.

Her mouth against mine is hot and sweet, and her body welcoming. I hike her skirt around her waist, slender legs wrapping around my hips as I sink into her wet warmth, her hair cascading over us warmly.

Her gasps of pleasure mingle with my own until I am no longer sure who is making what noises, and I cannot tell where I end and she begins. Her mouth is hot on my neck, leaving a bruise I know will last to remind me of my sins, and then she’s biting gently, and I’m dizzy with lust.

Before I have a chance to register it, her teeth are tearing into the flesh of my throat, and her legs are tight around my waist, trapping me; the pain of her bite is unbearable and yet leaves me swooning in pleasure at the same time.

I wake, sweating and dizzy in my own bed, the moon high outside my window, a dull ache throbbing in my neck. When I raise a hand to touch it there’s nothing there, and I mark it all up to an overactive imagination and bad dreams.

When I see her in the street the next day, smiling with those too-white teeth and hauntingly familiar eyes, black skirt flowing as she dances barefoot in the dust, I look away and choose another road. I know better than to tempt fate, and chasing vampyre is certainly a temptation fate can never resist.