Creation

"The act of procreation could be thought of as silly unless you care about the person involved and when you care **deeply** about the person involved it can be elevated to something much more meaningful and emotionally involving than it really should stand any chance of being. It can become an expression of something spiritual and deeply felt."

Candorwyn the Bard

(without whom, none of this creativity would have been possible)

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He sensed her vulnerability. "Do you need a lap to come and snuggle in?"

She blinked at him, trying to return from the insecurity of her thoughts. "I was going to say I'd quite like to sit by a fire and be hugged."

"Hugging is always available," he said, standing up and moving to the hearth. She watched him take logs from the basket in the corner and place them carefully on the fire. "You'll like this pine log. When it starts to warm, the scent will be fantastic."

He settled himself in the high backed, winged armchair by the fire, opening his arms as she came to him, burying herself deep in his lap, hiding her face in his chest.

"Better?"

She nodded, rubbing her nose in the warmth of his shirt. "I feel very safe."

"You are safe." He sighed deeply, his fingers tangling in her hair. They sat in silence for long minutes listening to the hiss and crackle of the flames as the pine log released its resin. They watched it drip down into the flames.

He sensed a change in her as she moved her position, turning herself so she leant back against him, his arm draped loosely across her. She looked up at him, her eyes suddenly golden in the firelight.

"You weren't going to wear this shirt again tomorrow?"

He caught his breath, "Oh - of course not..."

He watched as she bent her head to his upper arm, trying not to flinch as the material began to rip as she tore it apart with her teeth, flinging the discarded cloth onto the floor. His arm felt suddenly chill as the draft from behind the chair began to play across his taut biceps.

"I thought," she murmured, "this would be the perfect time to add a little something to this bare flesh. Flesh just aching to have teeth sunk into it, don't you think?"

He found himself nodding slowly, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at his arm. "Yes."

He felt her cool lips kiss his cheek.

"Of course the fangs will leave a mark. It might even be a coloured mark from the venom. It may sting a little, but that will soon pass." He felt each individual hair on the back of his neck stand, in a rippling wave that travelled down his spine and over his scalp, turning his head as the shiver-pulse swept over him.

"Please..." he begged, opening his eyes to watch as she lifted his arm towards her mouth.

"Please what, my love?"

"Please do it. Drink Your fill... Lady."

He felt her tongue begin to lave his skin, the saliva sticky and cool.

"Peace, Beloved" the words echoed inside his head, causing the shivering to pass and his breathing to slow. He hardly noticed as her fangs slide into him, the sting - so pure, so exquisite. It was as if fire leaped from the hearth, filling his veins while his pulse began to slow further, beating a slow tattoo to the flames.

She paused, allowing the venom to seep underneath his skin, watching the colour change and the skin begin to thicken where it touched. She withdrew her fangs and chose a new site along the muscle. This time, he was more sensitive to her touch. As the fangs slide into him, they seemed thicker and sharper, the venom darker and more viscous, the pain more marked, deeper.

He cried out "Thank you.... Lady!"

All his senses were afire now. He writhed and twisted as the poison raced along his system, his back arching as he forced his arm against her fangs. As her hand brushed his cheek, soothing him, instead of allowing the venom to trickle under his skin, he felt it pump into him, the skin raised and raw where it touched.

"More!" He heard his own voice, hoarse and rasping and her soft liquid, chuckle reply.

"Oh, my little one is eager for his banding! Once more and once more only!"

He felt her fangs dive down again on the inside edge of his arm, the force so hard he could almost hear bone and sinew crunching, the venom milky white as it spurted into his flesh. He ground his teeth together groaning in delight. His entire skin was thick and scaled now, his muscles sleek and smooth.

He pushed forward against her, nudging at her neck with his head, pushing her head to one side and licking her neck with his newly sensitised tongue - the exposed skin sweet, fragrant. His arousal swelled against her back as his arm was fixed across her chest, impaled by her fangs.

Too soon, she withdrew from him, her fingers moving down to his hand, bringing it up to her mouth. She planted a single kiss in the centre of his palm before sinking her fangs again, blood bubbling to the surface. This time she licked the drops of blood as they welled up onto the surface of his skin, finally taking his essence into herself.

He gave a long hissing exhalation as he slid them both from the chair onto the floor, his clothes disappearing as his sleek new skin came into contact with the soft warmth of the sheepskin hearthrug.

His eyes closed as hr writhed against her, then he paused before dropping his mouth to her vulnerable throat. A hand stroked his hair.

"Oh my love," she murmured, "what do you need from me? Take what you need - it is yours, from any part of me."

His own newly exposed fangs tickled at her neck, his movements slow and sinuous a continuous smooth, easy, motion. His fangs pierced skin, as his hands carefully undraped her flesh. As her form became open and exposed, his mouth and needle-teeth were there, delivering subtle, stabbing, sweet pain that brought soft moans from her lips.

His body rippled, twisting against her as the twin sting kisses became harsher, but she only murmured endearments into his ear, calling him "Dear one, Sweeting," as he stabbed her flesh, her whole body relaxing in his grip, writhing with him, rubbing skin to skin.

He turned her to one side, winding his arms around her. Lying behind with one leg around her, their shapes linked as he slid gently inside her. Her body welcomed him as they rippled and twined together. With each wave of muscle, he slipped further into her, the outline of their two bodies blurring, becoming one, showing how much they were part of each other.

Suddenly he drove his fangs into her shoulder, deep, and forceful, impaling her with these daggers. Then came the gentle sting of his lesser venom flooding into her as he reached his crest and flooded into her loins. He felt her body relax more, becoming still, almost ceasing to move, accepting everything he offered her, drawing it down deep inside; taking his essence and venom and transforming it into her flesh.

As he felt her draw from him, his body began to spasm, the shuddering not violent but powerful. He groaned in delight as fluids began to leak over his skin - from her breasts, from her inner core, the flooding warmth washing over him as she slowly writhed and twisted, around and around to bathe him in her essence.

Their motion became liquid, almost frictionless, gliding and sliding together. The strokes into her depths slower and more prolonged - seeking to fill - as though reaching and striving for some place, some depth never before known, unexplored; then slipping back out - sheer ecstasy in the slightest movement.

He felt her tongue coating his face with saliva as he turned his head, allowing her to anoint him. Her legs were still entwined around him, allowing access to her deepest places, for there was no barrier, no ending. The venom pulsed inside as he sensed this ultimate opening to him. His phallus surged, the tip touching new places, new surfaces. As he rocked backwards and forwards he seemed to slide deeper - then struck...

"Now, love, discharge your inner seed, release that which has never yet been spawned. Coat me where nothing has ever touched before."

At the farthest point, a light dawned behind his eyes. A riptide roared along his shaft, bursting forth inside her, a swelling wash of heavy, sweet perfumed, fiery fluid.

"Ahhhhhhh!" The cry was part release, part fear and the fear passed as he felt her body shudder beside him, her internal organs pulsing to his beat as she held him, draining him, emptying his All into her, spending himself.

Once more her nipples leaked, but this time the fluid was thicker, subtly changed, white, creamy.

"Feed, love."

He dropped his head to her breast, twisting effortlessly to suckle greedily, drawing her teat into his mouth, and swallowing, lips and tongue working together - gently taking and taking as his hips rocked against hers. Once more he became aware of his phallus being coated with juices -soothing and replenishing it.

"As you give all, so are you fed and nurtured. Thus are we both made whole by this exchange and transformation."

He felt her hands upon him, holding, caressing, sustaining every part of his being, whilst in return, his own hands trembled as they touched and swept across her.

He opened his eyes to find her gazing deeply into him. He saw himself within her and knew she saw herself within him, neither holding back, but opening their soul to the other's gaze.

"This is what happens," he murmured. "We give and receive and are transformed in return."

"Yes." Her arms tightened around him and he drew her deeper into his embrace, keeping her safe and warm as the fire hissed and crackled in the grate and the pine log crumbled into ash.