Ours is a love-hate relationship. With our extremely similar and clashing personalities and matching levels of intelligence, the ups are very, very high and the lows are very, very low. While we agree completely on many relevant issues, the things on which we have different opinions always bring out the screaming matches that wake the few remaining neighbors we have in the next valley over. But, of course, with every argument comes the great make-up sex, the mind-blowing romps that leave us achy and bewildered when we wake.
The latest of these, one of our many arguments on the issue of what is art and what is not, led to a session that probably broke a few world records. Well, at least it would have if we were alive. I never knew I could be brought over the edge that many times. While most of it has blurred into one unending haze of furious passion, I do recall that we must have stayed in bed for over forty-eight hours, excluding the occasional breaks for sustenance and recuperation.
We've acquired an impressive collection of various blood donations that we keep chilled in the walk-in refrigerator and, although we do enjoy the occasional hunt, we usually nourish ourselves by these less obvious means. Most of this was His idea, getting the mansion and the bags of blood, the enclosed room in which we retire, this very idea of our coexisting.
I cannot say I don't enjoy the company; eternity is a thing you mortals will never be able to fully grasp. Before I found Him, we had both been hunting in the same section of upstate New York, oblivious to each other's presence but both privately yearning for a companion...
- - - - - - -
At first He hadn't wanted to come with me, insisting that He was by nature "a solitary creature meant to roam alone". I had stared at Him for a long moment, pondering His elementary reasoning and anticipating His next action quite accurately. I turned to go, allowing myself a small smile, as I knew exactly what He meant to do. Silently counting down the seconds, I stepped slowly from His line of sight and through the pine trees, looking like so many emerald spears thrusting towards the overcast sky.
I heard a low cry of frustration.
"Wait," He said carefully, although the command was dripping with need. I whirled gracefully, nearly surprised to find Him standing not two feet from me. I raised my eyebrows innocently, tilting my head questioningly and waiting for his decision.
"I only asked if you might like to join me in the hunt. It's not as if you received an invitation to be introduced into my nightly routine." A short laugh burst from my throat as I spoke the words, surprising even me. If I had known what I was getting myself into I may have stopped myself then and there, leaving each of us to serve out our lonely sentence. I didn't. Now that I do know, I can only reminisce and wonder at my actions.
"Are you so weak that you require the company of another to survive?" He asked harshly in his Russian-tinged accent.
I laughed again. "Are you so weak that you cannot admit that you'd like to come with me?"
He snorted condescendingly. "And you assume that you would be a suitable hunting companion for the likes of myself?"
I shrugged and sighed. "Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me." I turned away from Him again, took two steps—
And found myself pinned against one of the magnificent pines I had been admiring only moments before, my cheek pressed against the rough bark. My arms were clasped behind me between His body and my own and His breath was cool in my ear. "As if I should bend to your will? Do you not believe I could simply take what I needed of you without your consent?"
I growled low in my throat. "I'd like to see you try." And with that I twisted violently, throwing him into the tree and ripping my wrists from his iron grip. I whirled around to find him vaulting himself from the trunk and into my chest, sending splinters of bark flying in the process. We landed on the ground silently, sliding a good distance in the bed of needles provided generously from the dark canopy above. My arms were caught at my sides and his teeth were at my throat. I felt a trickle of blood make its way to the back of my neck, so hot against my chilled skin.
And I couldn't help it: I moaned, arching my back slowly beneath His stone body.
He jerked his head back to stare at me in confusion.
I panted, "Do you know how long it's been since anyone has drawn blood from me?" At his bewildered expression I had to chuckle, rolling my head to the side to display the trail of blood. "You have no idea what this does to me."
He drew his brows together. "You were not fighting?"
"Oh, I was fighting alright, but not nearly as much as I was playing."
