I wanted to see if I could write like Anne Rice. And here is the result. It's a one shot, so don't ask for a sequel, please. And the two characters can be anyone, not necessarily Lestat and Louis as many of you may think after reading it. Besides.. Lestat wasn't nearly this gentle with Louis...

My Dark Kiss

7.12.2003

"You're a fool," he whispered into my ear, his lips silken and much more warm than they should have been.

"If coming to you like this makes me a fool, then I admit that you're right." I replied just as softly, afraid that speaking louder would shatter the spell that had been woven around us like a silken web of gossamer midnight fibers. While I would have liked to think that both of us were the prey, I knew that he was the spider and I the fly who had been blind to the beauteous trap.

He laughed, then. A soft and dark sound that rumbled from deep within the chasms of his damned soul. The mere timbre of it reminded me of what he truly was- blackened, limitless, and inherently evil to the very depths of his being. His lips played along my neck as he cradled me in his arms like a lover, but he and I were not on such intimate terms. "I can almost taste your fear... Why have you come if you feel you may meet your end here? And what makes you believe that I won't simply drink my fill and leave you here to slowly waste away?"

It was my turn to laugh then, a bitter sound, but one that was filled with life rather than his cheap imitation of it. "Because this pitiful existence isn't good enough for me anymore. I care not if I die, so long as this torment I go through daily ceases. 'T would be all the better if I survived and could go on living as I wished, rather than walking this empty, fruitless, thankless path I've been plodding down since the day my mother gave birth to me."

I felt his lips smile against my skin and I couldn't resist a small one of my own. I had amused him in some way, so perhaps he wouldn't have to delight in torturing me. With all that I am, I was sincerely hoping that he would make this experience as painless and blissful as was possible. I knew that if any of his kind could truly turn a mind trick to make it pleasurable, he could.

With the way he seemed to pick up on my thoughts, I knew that he could sense those sincere hopes of tenderness and my loathing of the risk of brutality. I thought to myself that he owed it to me since I willingly walked to his doorstep, a dinner that delivered itself free of charge and didn't ask for a tip.

His long fingers, with their nails that gleamed like mirrors, were toying idly with my hair. He felt it as though it were worth something, seeming to weigh it with his hands- memorizing the texture, breathing in the scent of the long brunette locks.

He lifted me in his arms then, carrying me with ease as though I weighed no more than a small child. I could feel the strength of his body through the velvet shirt that hid the whole of him from me, the raw animalistic power that writhed beneath his flesh as if it had a life and mind all of its own.

He sank down into an overstuffed parlor chair, cradling me in his arms as though I was something truly precious. I knew that it wasn't myself that he cared so deeply for, but rather that which ran so hotly through my veins, almost begging to be released and become a part of him so that the rest of me-all of me-may become one complete and glorious whole.

He murmured something softly to me in French, and I understood not a word of it. All I knew was that he was preparing me, for I felt his lips on my neck again and I braced myself for pain immeasurable as I felt him draw back to strike like an angry viper. I could only feel the pressure of his eyeteeth on my skin for a trace of a second before they sank into my vein, and I did feel the pain of it. It burned white hot, taking over all of me as though it would incinerate me to ash on the spot.

Just as soon as it had come, the pain was gone and I was rolled under the calming pressure of his mind. For all other purposes, I was out of my body, experiencing pleasant things I had never imagined doing or seeing. Wondrous beaches stretched out before me, sands warmed by the rays of the sun, ocean waters undulating soothingly in a rich deep blue that no artist could match.

I was taken to frigid mountaintops where the air was thin and my own breath formed clouds that appeared thick enough to pour out rain, where snow glittered in a thousand prismatic colors so beauteous that I cannot even find words within myself to describe the multitude of hues therein.

A thousand other images of Elysium on earth filled my mind, things I would not soon forget. I vowed to myself then that I would someday see these places firsthand, so that someday I could pass the images on to another much in the way he passed them on to me.

I could feel his lips drawing at me as though he were trying to take my very soul from the wounds at my throat along with my blood. I was no longer sitting on my own, there was no strength left in me. He supported me with his hands and his arms, and I could feel the warmth in him. Heat I had given him thrummed through his body, making him feel more than human. My own skin was growing cold, making the warmth of his touch seem nearly scalding. The world was spinning out of control, and a blackness was encroaching on the borders of my vision.

Through heavy-lidded eyes I watched him drag those razor sharp teeth across his wrist, seeing too the rich and vibrant crimson fluid that welled to the surface. He brought the wound to my mouth and for a moment I nearly choked, suddenly repulsed by the idea of swallowing another's blood. He spoke softly to me, telling me that I would never be able to visit those beaches or the mountains if I did not make haste in my drinking.

Indeed, the world was fading fast away from me, so I drank like there was no tomorrow. At first I was too weak to do anything other than suck from the wound at his wrist, still dangling limply in his arms like a sickly animated doll whose mind functioned but whose body could not obey any neural commands. Then, as the dark ambrosia began to seep into my cells, I could feel the strength growing within me. Strength that could nearly rival his.

I grabbed his arm firmly in both hands and sat on my own, greedily feeding from the fount that would give me access to these visions of Heaven, that would give me many more lifetimes to accomplish all I wished to. More sights were given to me, drawn from his memory that flowed with the red river that swam past my lips.

Finally, he pulled the cup of life away from me and I reached vainly for it like a spoiled child being deprived of a toy. I hadn't had my fill, and I wanted more.

He smiled at me and I watched as the brutal slash on his wrist filled in with tissue and healed over as if the chasm had never been. "More you shall have, but you must have warm live blood, not the coldness that is my own." He kissed me then and I could taste my own essence, mixed with a tinge of the unnatural spice of his own, on his lips. Those full, soft lips that I had longed to touch since they first uttered a word in my presence. I ran my fingers through his soft blond hair and he gently lifted me to my feet.

He brought me before a mirror and I could see that I had indeed been reborn. No longer was I something soft and warm and breathing. I was now cold and hard, like a statue made living and given flesh. My skin was slightly paler for the lack of blood, but it shined with some inner light that was given by this exchange.

I finally had what I had craved for so long. I had been given a dark kiss.

started at 11:56 p.m.

finished at 1:07 a.m.