Author: Chellendora PM
You can move on from the past, but only if it allows you to. Akane/ShaneRated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Romance - Words: 505 - Follows: 1 - Published: 06-28-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2928010
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
How could she not remember him?
Had it really been that long?
Had it really been so long since she saw him…that she forgot?
Forgot every memory of the man she had loved?
Suddenly she was behind him, hovering so close he could feel her cool breath against the back of his neck and his ears. With a shiver, he could feel her cold fingers lightly brushing against his neck, in the one place that was always burning.
Except when she touched him.
She was examining the mark, her mouth slightly open as her breath left in spurts of white vapor. The rough skin, the searing temperature, the broken skin faded to white. Her fang marks. It was her mark.
All sense had escaped her. Her mind was primal, her emotions were primal…her desires were primal.
She threw her head back, simultaneously bucking her hips forward. The man beneath her bucked his hips upward to meet her, to push the thrust deep. His warm hands grasped her hips, squeezing and guiding.
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as their rhythm sped up. In the throes of her orgasm, she sank her fangs into his neck, drinking the blood. The unfamiliar, but non unpleasant, sensation pushed him the rest of the way over the edge, and he cried out as his seed filled her chilled body.
"You lived…" she said softly, tentatively; as though she were afraid that someone would tell her that she was wrong. That he wasn't alive, that she had completely drained his blood; that her blood, that she had given him, hadn't saved him.
A cold laugh barked dryly from him. "I guess you could say that," he said with a tone that lilted with chilled amusement.
"Eat," she said frankly, holding up her wrist to his mouth. She had torn her arm open, and was pushing the open, bleeding gash against his lips. But he wasn't responding. She used her other hand to force open his mouth, and poured the blood down his throat.
He was pale. He was cold. He wasn't moving.
She returned to stand in front of him, no longer the fearsome sire. She looked demure; her golden blonde hair fell about her back and shoulders like a little girl. Her blood red eyes peered out from under her bangs with a reserved sadness. He was taller than her, but now that height difference felt even more pronounced.
"I changed you," she said silently; more for herself than for him. She had to state the fact for herself.
A fact that had been coldly true to him ever since the day he awoken and had found her gone, and himself covered in blood. "Yeah, that you can most definitely say."
She had blocked the memories of the man she loved. She fought the urge to run. Her legs were literally twitching.
He smiled sadly, able to see her desire in her eyes. "Go on, my sire. Run."