I had too much wine last night. He likes to come to me when I've been drinking. I'm more docile for him, more accepting of what he brings me. His face hidden in the shadows I've never seen him clearly, and I don't think I care too. His body is enough, his chest and abs chiseled, his thighs powerfully defined, his cock thick and long.
I was lying there, nude, uncovered, when he appeared in my room. No noise marked his entry, he was not there, I closed my eyes for just a moment and then he was. I opened my mouth to speak, but he made a soft hushing noise. No words were ever spoken between the two of us, just the mingling of our bodies.
He crawled onto my bed, hovering over me. My fingers trailed along his chest, and then down along his stomach. With sudden ferocity, his teeth were on my neck. I could feel it as his teeth sank into my pale skin. I could feel my blood well from the wounds. And I could feel his tongue wash over the wounds, lapping up my blood. He pulled his teeth away from my ruined neck and then kissed me. I could taste my own blood, sticky, sweet, and hot.
As I gasped in writhing pleasure he trailed down my body, leaving a trail of bloody kisses. He kissed just below my right hip bone and then tore into the soft skin, leaving two puncture wounds. It should have hurt, but the way he bit me never hurt. His bites were erotic and made wetness pool between my legs. He drank deeply and then sank between my legs, my blood mixing with my nectar. His tongue pressed against my clit, circling and lapping. He was careful, so careful, never allowing his teeth to make contact with that delicate skin. Not that I would have minded if he did, in truth I wanted him to. I loved the way his teeth felt everywhere else, so why not there?
His mouth left my sex and returned to my hip, drinking deeply. As his tongue abandoned my clit, I whimpered and he obliged me by pushing two fingers deep into me. He knew my body so well, he didn't have to search for the pleasure node of my g-spot anymore. I tried to writhe in pleasure under his touch but his other hand was like a steel girder. He didn't like me to move when he drank my blood. I had tried to ask him why once, but he didn't like it when I spoke either. His fingers curled within me and his mouth left my hip and kissed back up my body, this time his teeth finding home on the underside of my right breast.
I wanted his cock, but he would give it to me when he pleased. He pushed a third finger into me, his mouth traveling from his bite on my breast, up to my nipple and then back. My breast was quickly covered in my blood and his spit. I could feel an orgasm rising, and I knew he could feel it too. He never let me cum from anything but his cock. My hips bucked slightly as he pulled his fingers from my wanton sex. He brought his fingers to my mouth and I eagerly sucked my nectar from them. And while I cleaned his fingers, he snaked his tongue along my neck, not sucking, only tasting.