Mercy

As he entered her, she let out a little howl, the whole of him filling her up, followed by his slow rhythmic thrusts. His hand spread across her stomach, pulling her onto the hot throbbing prick as he bucked sideways into her. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations of heat, moisture, the dryness of her mouth as she breathed in fast sharp little breaths. She listened to the slap-slap-slapping of his balls against her and then she lost herself, rolling over, pinning him, straddling him, clawing his shoulders as she thrust her pelvis down on him, burying him deep, holding him inside of her.

In seconds she felt the pressure of her orgasm building up, she leaned down, pressing her lips to his neck once more, feeling the fangs descend into the warmth of his veins. She felt the lovely flood of his blood, tasted its sweetness, felt the thirst in her abate just in time for the lust in her to rise up and explode just as she heard him moaning and then felt his own eruption deep inside her.

*****

Lying there, drenched in sweat, his vision a bit blurred, he could feel her curling up beside him. Her hand on his bare chest and her breathing in his ear. He was so tired, drained, exhausted.

"Sleep," she whispered. "In the morning I'll make you breakfast."

He felt her kiss his ear and then, as his eyes closed, he felt her head rest on his shoulder. It was a moment before he felt himself able to talk again, and when he did it was as he was half-asleep.

"Mercy," he said, "I won't write the book."

She stroked his hair and sighed. "I know. The others will thank you, I'm sure. Now sleep."

And with that, he let the darkness of the deep sleep envelop him, sucking him down into a blissful oblivion in the arms of the vampire. He sighed in his sleep as Mercy stood up and went out into the den. She felt the cold in the room against her bare skin, but she didn't shiver. She picked up the television remote and turned on the late night movie. She never slept.