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I stare at him as he walks in. From my spot of the sofa, I see every step. He kicks the front door shut behind him, drops his satchel, toes off his shoes and walks straight towards me. One hand cups my chin, the other eases the phone out of my hand and tosses it to the other end of the sofa.
He smirks at me.
Ah, it'll be like that, then.
My tail reaches out and slithers up his leg, hooking under his arse and sliding between his legs. I grin as he close his eyes at the delicacy of the feeling.
His cock twitches. I see it happen, his polite green suit trousers stretch and he whines. "Simon"
"Baz", I reply. He only calls me Simon when he gets like this. He insists on calling me 'Snow' the rest of the time. Even though I'm a Sailsbry now.
Snow is only his name for me.
Simon is just my name, but when he says it he sounds like he's about to cum. I love it.
I'm tempted to get him off right here in the front room, but the sofa might start to complain, and I don't want Baz to start making the face he makes sometimes when he walks into our bedroom (like yes, I got off the chosen one in this room, and what?) whenever he walks in here.
"Si", Baz murmurs, the hand on my jaw traces upwards and threads from the stubble on my cheeks to the curls on my head. "Your shit at sexting"
"Well, that's why I sent a picture"
He huffs under his breath,"Your crazy"
"Your crazy", I snap back, my tail shifts, and his eyelids flutter again. I want to suck him off right here, but I'm not sure he'd appreciate that, not with the feast going to waste right in front of him.
"So your bleeding?"
I try not to clamp my legs together,"Yes", I say. I think about how badly he wants to eat me out. I think about how badly I want him to.
"And you didn't even save me anything?"
When I started getting periods at the rank old age of fourteen and three quarters (ish) I used pads and nothing else. When I found out that Baz was tempted with the idea of eating me out on my periods so that he could feed... Baz hated the idea of anything I could give to him going to waste, but it's not like I'm going to sit on a bowl all day and all night so I can bake him some blood cookies.
He says this is the only way he wants to drink from me. He'd hurt me otherwise, he says.
His fangs are dropping. I can see him try to pull them back, try to hide them, but I've always thought they were wicked. I want to kiss every point. I want to reach out and-
A cramp seizes me and I wince, my tail drops away from Baz and my wings spasm outwards, knocking over a lampshade. Unfortunately, I cannot push all the painful parts of periods away so that I can enjoy getting off with my boyfriend.
Fucking uterus. Why've you gotta be such a pain in the arse? (and the stomach?)
"Si, shit, C'mere, love", Baz goes soft, and reaches out, one hand on my stomach, the other on my waist.
"Bedroom?"
I nod.
"Painkillers?"
I nod. I had some a while ago, but some more now would be good.
"Hot water bottle?"
I nod again. I don't know how long it'll last, given that Baz has promised to fuck me into the matress repeatedly after he's finished his 'meal'.
He carries me to the bedroom, wincing more than me when my wings hit the doorframe.
"Sorry, love", he murmurs, setting me on the edge of the bed. He loses his tie, and tosses it on the floor, before hurrying from the room like he's got things to be doing.
I pick the tie up, and smoothe it over my knees. It's floral and silken. His second favourite tie. The pink of the flowers is the exact same shade as my too surgery scars, which is why Baz picked it. (Apparently)
My chest is covered loosely by one of Baz' pretty shirts, and bellow that I'm wearing nothing but my boxers and a bloody pad.
In short? I'm a mess.
Baz comes back with a glass and two ibuprofen. I swallow both of them, and listen to Baz as he potters back out of the room to get me a hot water bottle. It's strange how gentle and domestic he is when we both know that in half an hour (at most) he'll have his tongue inside me as I moan his name and cum all over his pretty face.
I look up as he walks back in. The hot water bottle has a knight in shining armour on it. I can't remember where we got it. America, maybe. (The second time) Or that DIY store run by four butch lesbians and also Agatha.
I smile greatfully and press the jiggly plastic to my tummy. I'm to tired to bother with simple things like wincing at the burn.
"You sure your okay to-"
"Tyrannus", I snap, so that he knows I'm being serious,"Stop being a gentleman and start eating me out. I don't need a good boyfriend, right now, I need a good fuck."
"Y'know I can be both", he says, almost looking sad.
I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him towards me, until I can rest my chin on his stomach and look straight up to his face. He looks down.
"Hullo", he says.
"Hullo" I say.
He leans down to kiss me. This is the best bit. Opening his mouth with my own. Kissing his heart open and his lips red. If I could only do one thing for the rest of my life, it would be kiss Baz. (I know, I'm charitable like that) If I asked him, he'd probably say the same, I think.
I don't think Baz needs to breathe, but whenever I kiss him he ends up panting and out of breath. I want him to keep kissing me, so I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him bum. He jolts a bit at that, like he thought we were having a moment and I ruined it by being horny.
"Where was I?", he says.
"You were saying about being a good boyfriend and a good lay?"
"Oh, right... Should I just... suck you off, instead?"
I love it when Baz is flippant with masculine tearms. Like when he calls me his boyfriend, and calls what is definitely not a cock, my cock. He says suck you off like he's going to pull my pants down and something other than a packer will tumble out. Not that I'm wearing a packer today. Too much hassle.
I nod. He smirks. He can tell I'm desperate. Or somewhere close.
I push the hot water bottle off my stomach too see him better as he sinks to his knees before me. Not because he's submitting, but because he wants me to give him what I've got. I've got cramps and anal spasms and a very horny vampire boyfriend. This is the only way he'll let me feed him.
So I spread my legs a little wider and pretend I'm not whimpering at the puff of air that brushes my clit. He likes to draw it out.
Fucker.
I can see his fangs. He's trying to hide them. Like I'll get scared and run for the hills after four years of being together.
He glances up at me, wide hopeful eyes as he leans in. His tongue traces my thighs, first, taking the drying patches of blood where my pad sits funny because of my boxers.
He nuzzles against the flat of my pants, and I feel myself getting damper. He's so hot.
I shift backwards, dropping onto my elbows. I can see his eyes and little else. Eyes, hair, ears.
I want to pull him closer or push him away completely. I know that whatever I do he'd be happy with. If I told him to stop: he would. If I told him to come closer he... well, maybe he wouldn't, but if I clamped his head between my thighs and begged him...
Then he would. But I'm above begging.
Or I like to think I am. He hasn't even taken his suit off yet. Tosser. He looks hot in it, he always does. But he also looks tired.
He always looks tired, these days. I have half a mind to put him to bed and pop down to the butchers for some blood early in the morning, but he likes this better.
I started testosterone last year, and I don't know how many more periods I'll have before they stop. I want them to end, and so does Baz, because he know they suck for me. (On multiple levels)
But if that means that I won't have Baz getting on his knees for me anywhere in the house, then I'll miss it.
He presses closer, leaving open mouthed kisses along my thigh. The press of his teeth is maddening, and I want him to open me up, I'm begging for it, weeping for it.
He knows. He has to know. He can smell the slick. He has to be able to.
"Your so good, love"
I whimper. He's to close not to be closer. I need him inside me. I feel myself ache. The painkillers numb most of the pain, but sometimes the cramps hurt to much for an ibuprofen to stop, and I actually feel the pain. Baz places a hand on my stomach, and I whimper again.
His hand rubs up and down, gently, and I want him to press against me. I want him to be rough and-
He kisses my clit. Open mouth, through the boxers and the pad, but I feel it. Just.
It's not enough.
"Ba-az"
I want to moan loudly, I want to be crying out his name, but he just wants to tease.
I'm above begging. I remind myself. I have to be above begging.
He places a kiss on the curve of my waist, and I preen. The hair there is thick and blonde. I wish it was darker, but the feeling of Baz' hand running over it leaves nothing to be desired.
I fight my boxers of my hips, and push them down. Baz doesn't protest, just watches. "You're ment to ask, Si"
I moan, my name on his lips does that. If I had a cock it would be near purple by now, and pulsing. I'd roll over and rut myself into oblivion thinking of him watching me.
I don't do that, though. I don't want to stain the sheets. Instead, I let him glare at me for my impatience, and force myself to glare back.
"Ask"
I keep glaring. The effect is nill and void because he can see (and smell) how wet I am. It's hard to be angry when the only feeling coursing through ny veins is want.
I want to rut against his face, and moan his name as I cum. I want him to fuck me into the matress. I want him to let me bounce on his cock until he has to use his vampire strength to keep me going because I'm too spent and he's not done yet-
"Simon"
Half my ass is off the bed. I've been waving my T-dick in his face like he wants to suck it. (He does) (He looks so tempted) I want him to come to me. He wants me to let him tease me.
I scoot back, and watch him.
"You need to ask, love"
"Baz."
"Nicely"
He knows what he's doing. Slick dribbles out of me. His fangs are low. He wants to lean in and lick thick wide strips until I physically can't cum anymore. He wants it. He wants me. So much. But he's waiting for me to be 'nice'.
I used to feel disgusting, laying down and letting him eat me out as I bled in his mouth, but he said it was delicious, and he looked like he'd had the best lay of his life, so I let him do it again.
It was only on the third month I got him to eat me out that I realised he would rut against his trousers until he came in his pants. I teased him so much after that, whenever we watched a film I'd get distracted running my fingers over his clothed cock as he pretended to be invested in the film. (I would ask if I could touch him) (He said over his clothes) (He wants to be teased just as much as he wants to tease me)
Then I'd pop the button of his jeans and pull them down. Pants stretched by a good six inches. Run one finger from base to tip. Watch him shiver.
In short, I liked getting Baz to cum in his pants. It made him look inexperienced. It made me feel superior. It was stupid.
But we both liked it.
And we both like this.
"Nicely", he says again, taunting me. I want to slide onto the floor and land on his lap. I want to ruin his nice work trousers as I hump his lap and rut against him through layers and layers. Screw condoms, the only thing he's allowed to cover his dick with as he slides into me is his pants. Or mine. I don't mind.
He raises his eyebrows. He's waiting like he's got all day, and he has. He came home early. Lucky him.
He came home early to eat me out and suck me off and let me bounce on his cock and then to fuck me into the matress. (Lucky me)
"Please", I whisper. He pretends he hasn't heard me. Doesn't move. Stays as still as he can. He's got bloody vampire hearing. I know he heard me. The same way he can hear my heart racing as I say, slightly louder,"Baz? I need you"
He leans forward, intoxicated. "Hmm?"
"I need you", I say. I want to reach into myself and spoon out whatever I can reach to feed to him. Cum and blood and probably his load from last night. (He left it inside, said I wasn't getting pregnant anyway) (He brought a pill home this morning anyway, just in case.) (Might as well get full use for it.)
I spread my legs wider and bite my bottom lip,"Please, baby"
He looks so tempted. Like he wants to shove his cock in right now, damn feeding and damn the whole word. He looks like he wants to fuck me all night until I cant walk again. He looks like he wants to rail me. Keep me laid out for him to fuck away his worries and problems.
He looks like he's thinking about leaving me here with nothing but a dildo far too big to fit, just to watch me struggle to stretch myself wide enough for it to slip inside. I want to try that. I want to watch him as he watches me fumble. I want to see him stroke himself as I press the blunt head of it against myself. I want it not to fit. I want it to be too big for hours. I want to be too tight for it for a whole week. I want it never to fit, and for Baz to tease me until I'm so wet that it just... sides in.
I want it to be so big and wide that I gasp, and Baz stares because it wasn't ever ment to fit. It was just ment to tease.
Then I want him to watch, in wonder, as I let my walls stretch. I want him to watch as I cum again and again and again.
I want to keep it inside of me at all times. Never taking it out. I want Baz to know it's inside me when we have dinner and watch a film. I want him to see it form a bump in my stomach. I want Baz to growl as I replace him with glass or silicone. I want that so bad.
And then I want him to take it out of me and fuck me so well that I never leave his cock. That I sit on it when we eat dinner, and writhe on it when we watch a film, and get ploughed by it in the shower.
My legs are even wider, now, and I ache.
Instead, he says with the slight lisp that forms around his fangs,"I'm not convinced"
I am above begging. In most situations, I am above begging.
But apparently not in all situations.
"Baz, if you don't touch me I'm going to die. I'm going to die because I need you so bad and I want it. I want you, please, please, Baz, I need you, Please"
He leans forward and inhales gently. Then he kisses the hinge of my thigh and trails his mouth over my pubes and to my clit. He takes it in his mouth and I moan. His tongue fondles against me and his fangs scrape a little, never piercing.
He pulls pack, and I whine.
I may sometimes be above begging, but I will never be above whining. I wonder if he's cum yet. I wonder if his cocks hard. I wonder if he's imagining fucking me into the matress as much as I'm imagining being fucked.
We've lived in the same flat for four years. He's got a Normal job, I've got a Normal job, I've got wings that fly out whenever he teases too much and a tail that I can use to tease him back.
Or I would, if he hadn't caught it between his thumb and forefinger and began scratching it. I whimper.
He grins.
"F-fucker", I huff.
"Later", he smirks. So he is imagining it.
"Oh y-yeah?", I watch him sit back a little, admiring how wet I am. Admiring how much I've bled since he drank from between my legs this morning. He hates that I wear pads. He says I should put something (anything) inside myself to hold the blood in until he can empty me out. I asked what. He suggested his cock.
I want to try that theory out. See if I can sit in him all day without either of us cumming. (He'd cum) (I'd make sure he cums)
"You wanna fuck me so bad. Your s-so hard"
I can't actually see that he is, I just know. He better be, otherwise why the hell am I panting like a fucking mutt.
"You want me to lay down for you so you can worship me."
"Yes", he says. "I do"
My tail slips out of his hand and starts running over his cock. He's hard. I can feel how hot he is. Hot and bothered. Hot, bothered, and horny.
"Well, you have things to do before you're allowed to get off your knees."
I'm not begging now, but he likes this. He likes watching me forgthe rules of the game and throw all my cards at him.
He lifts my hips, and pushes the flat of his tongue against my asshole. He licks upwards, until his tongue is inside me, then he pulls back so that I can watch him swallow. God.
His fangs shine and he runs a hand through his hair, trying to get it out of the way. A strand falls into his face, and I want to brush it away.
I don't. I stay still, like a good boy, and let him choose what to do next. Waiting is torture. I want to throw him onto the bed and sit on his face until he's had his fill. I want him to open me up. I want to impale myself on his thick, throbbing cock.
He grins at me, and I spread my legs wider again. He chuckles. "Impatient"
I moan. He leans in, inhales deeply, presses his lips to my lips (not the ones on my face) and presses his tongue inside. It's so good.
He works me open, like I haven't been fingering myself since I got the text that he was coming back home early. I always call in sick to work because I know that at home I only have to jerk off and wait for him to suck me off.
He leans closer, and my mind blanks. Oh- oh! Oh!
I groan and moan and drool.
I cum once, then twice, then a third time, but he's not counting. He does need to.
I remember the first time I touched him. He looked so happy, so blissed out. He'd looked like he'd been waiting for me to touch him forever. Cock hard and pulsing under my hands.
I cum a fourth time. Then he pulls back. Theres a trail of slick on his chin, and he swallows.
"Simon", he whispers. Then I'm cumming again, from my own name. God, oh god. "Good boy"
He leans back in, with his hand, this time, neat fingers scraping my walls. He swirls round once, then twice. He pulls them out and licks them clean. Like a cat. He meets my eyes, and I wonder if he's thinking the same as me. I wonder if he wants me to sit on the floor with him and make him cum in his pants. I want to kiss him, but want him to wash his mouth out first. I want to lick every one of his fangs, and ride his cock until he's more spent than me.
I want to fall asleep with him deep inside. I want to wake up to his cock inside me, hard but asleep. I want to wake him up, and to watch him get flustered, I wamt to roll him onto his back and ride is morning hard on into oblivion.
He swallows again, pushes his fingers back inside, and spreads them apart. He doesn't break eye contact, even though he wants to lean closer to my hole and watch it widen.
He pulls away, standing up, and I want something inside me, anything. He drops his belt, then his suit trousers. His cock is hard. His pants wet.
He came in them.
Drool slips down my chin as he pulls the elastic down and slips the fabric over his bare feet. He hands them to me, watches to see what I'll do.
I could stuff them inside me, could drag them in and out. I could make a show of wiping his cum off of his pants and into me.
But I don't, instead, I bring the fabric to my mouth, and inhale the same way he did. I lick the sloppy cum off of the fabric and then (because I can) I spread my lips wide and shove the entirety of his pants inside myself. He's not paying enough attention, in a minute he'll try to push into me and find the entrance blocked.
More fool him.
He pulls him shirt over his head and turns back to me. I shuffle until I'm sat with my wings flaired behind me and my legs spread. the bedposts here are almost stupid, cilinders smoothe enough to rut against. I should do that. I could, now. I could pull his pants out of me and ride the actual bed.
What would Baz say?
("Yes")
His boxers aren't enough. I want him. I want his cock.
He stares at me. "Your a menace", he says, pulling at his pants. I clamp my legs around them and he huffs.
"How'm I gonna fuck you with that inside."
I glare. He glares back. We should be over this pettiness, but we're not. He shrugs. "Alright then, I see how it is. You don't even need me to have sex with me anymore.
He shrugs and lies down on the bed. I don't know if I want to tease him or myself more.
I pull the pants out and kiss him. It's gentle, because he can play rough, but never is. Because he loves me and I love him back.
My wings stretch wide and my tail snakes around his thigh. He's to beautiful to ignore. My fingers touch his cock.
He cums instantly. I knew he was sensitive but- christ.
I scoop up what I can and place it on my tongue. Baz' eyes are closed. He's not paying attention. I'm tempted to swallow, but I don't. I kiss him again, and push his own seamen into his mouth.
He opens his eyes and whimpers. Good. I'm in charge now. I know what I'm doing. He sits up, and leans against me.
"Swallow", I say, and he does. I clamber on top of his thighs and kiss him again, less of his seamen in my mouth, and more in my pussy.
He moans as I get seated on him, his eyes go wide. "Simon", he groans.
I graze my teeth over his neck, biting and sucking as well as I can whilst bounching myself stupid on his thick cock. Anyone would think I was the vampire.
In the morning, I'll pretend to be asleep whilst he gets ready for work, and then after he's gone, I'll plug myself full with whatever of his I can find.
Then I'll send his a picture. Then he'll say he's coming home, so I'll send him an audio message of me moaning and begging for his cock.
But for now I focus on making him cum again. For now I focus on making him forget his name and mine.
For now I focus on being the best boyfriend (and the best lay) I can be. It's almost funny how much time I devote to making him fall in love with me.
Again and again and again.