Safe Sucks

If she'd had any worries about their physical compatibility, they were dashed away. He looked ... oh, yes ... very compatible. And very ready, not urgently so but most definitely attentive. Like the rest of him, that part was long and lean, and elegantly shaped.

"Donovan ... you're beautiful!"

He opened his arms to her. "Come to me, Kyra. Let me hold you."

A swooning dizziness rushed through her head, and for a moment she thought she would ruin the evening by fainting from an overload of sexual desire. He tenderly took the clip from her hair and spread it in a sable fan over her shoulders.

An instant later, they were entwined and she was feeling the coolness of his flesh all over her body. The thin material of her dress did not provide much barrier, even had it not ridden up to her waist and slid off one arm to bare a breast.

His loving hands sent streams of white fire flowing through Kyra, spiraling inward from every point of contact to meet in a single growing blaze of sweetly unbearable heat at the base of her belly. She ended up supine, as Donovan knelt on the floor between her parted legs. He leaned over her, looking down adoringly.

"Kyra," he whispered, tugging at cloth. "May I remove this? I just want to see you, to touch you here ... I promise you I will not penetrate."

A spark of hesitation flared, and just as quickly died. "All right, Donovan ..."

She sat up, holding her hair out of the way as he gently unwound her scarf. He did it with the breathless anticipation of someone unwrapping a long-awaited present, and as each layer peeled away to expose more of the column of her throat, his breathing quickened. When the last of it was gone, leaving her bare from collarbones to chin, his eyes went half-lidded in appreciation.

"Oh, Kyra ..."

Kyra raised her chin and slowly turned her head to each side. When she swallowed, causing the muscles of her neck to flex in a rippling series, Donovan groaned his helpless passion.

She felt a single cool touch as his fingertip traced from her earlobe behind her jaw and down, stopping on the drumming pulse. He closed his eyes, and though he did not move, it seemed as if his entire body throbbed in time with the steady tide of her blood.

His mouth had fallen partway open, and Kyra could see the proof of his arousal. His fangs were at full extension, the canines descended into twin glistening curves.

"Donovan, can I ...?" she ventured, reaching out.

His eyes flickered open and focused on her. She saw a mixture of emotions in them, lust and hope but mainly a sweeping relief at the realization that she was not afraid. He nodded mutely.

Kyra used her first and second fingers to touch his fangs, sliding them down. They were sleek and hard, satin and ice. She pressed the pads of her fingertips lightly against their points.

Donovan shuddered and drew back. "We'd better stop now," he said, his voice thick. "Or I won't be able to."

"I have ... protection," Kyra said, suddenly shy as she saw incredulity suffuse his expression. She fumbled at the drawer, which conspired against her by coming halfway out at a slant and wedging stuck. Still, it was enough for her to dig out the box. She showed him the red lettering -- VEIN-GUARD, it read. "If you want to, I mean."

"If you do." He spoke as one who couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes, Donovan. I want to. And I know that you can't ... you know ... without giving in to the instinct."

"Will you put it on for me?"

She took the molded clearplast device from the box. It was designed on a principle similar to the mouth-guards that kept slap-disc players from losing their teeth, but made to accommodate the dental structure of the Bram.

"I heard they dull the sensation," she said apologetically. "But ..."

"You'd rather be safe, of course. Do not be concerned, Kyra. I understand."

His fangs had retracted a little, but as she leaned toward his open mouth, they twitched and elongated again. Kyra fitted the blunted device over them.

"Is it all right?" she asked.

"It's somewhat strange," he said, his words muffled. "But not disturbingly so."

"Good." She let her hands slip down, over his chest and taut stomach, and lower yet.

He gasped as she curled her fingers around his length. That, too, was cool to the touch, but there would be no mistaking it for anything artificial, not ever. The texture of him was slick and velvety. She stroked him with a firm pressure, watching his face in fascination as she brought him to the brink of his bite reflex. His lips pulled back from his teeth, jaws chewing fitfully at the air.

They fell across the lounging platform together, Donovan's weight pressing her pleasantly against the cushioned surface. He bent his head to nuzzle at her breasts, lips teasing her nipples until they were tight rosebud nubs.

"Your dress," he said.

"My dress." She wiggled out of it with his help, somehow doing so without ever breaking their embrace. Her underwear quickly followed suit, joining the pile of discarded clothes.

He cupped the dark-furred mound between her legs, probing exploringly at the warm, moist folds. She cried out as fierce quakes shook her to the core, a sudden orgasm that made the white fire burning in her burst into an inferno. Donovan echoed her cry with a low needful wail, lowering himself onto her.

"Now, Kyra, I need you now."

"Enter freely," she sighed, reaching to guide him as the tip of his erection nudged her opening. Her thighs scissored his hips. She raised her buttocks to meet him as he entered her with a long, slow push.

The overwhelming rush of that intimate connection drove her into a frenzy, triggering a second climax so close on the heels of the first that it was as if she never subsided, but rode the firestorm higher than she'd ever thought possible.

Kyra surrendered. She let her head fall back, arching her neck to him, vulnerable and exposed.

Donovan moaned with joy and relief. He clamped his mouth to her throat as his instinctive compulsive need seized control of him.

She felt the smoothness of his lips and the hardness of his teeth beneath them, the blunt push of the device on her skin hard enough to leave a bruise, but in that instant she didn't care if it left a brand large enough to proclaim to the entire galaxy what she'd been doing.

The pace of his thrusts sped into urgency, taking Kyra with him as he rushed toward his conclusion. She clung to him, writhing and aflame, knowing only that it had never been like this, she'd never thought it could be like this, that nothing could possibly be better --

And then something was! A piercing shock shot through her like a silver arrow, every nerve suddenly alight and awash in a sheer ecstasy that dimmed her third orgasm into inconsequence. She heard her rapturous shriek without realizing she'd voiced it.

With a painless twinge, her mind meshed with Donovan's, fused with his, and his sensations were her own just as hers flew to him. She knew the scent/feel/heat of her body, felt the explosive outpouring as he emptied himself into her. It was as if she were doing it herself, emptying into him, but with no sense of being drained, only of giving ...

Kyra knew the taste of her own blood, just as Donovan knew it.

They collapsed together with a final shudder, neither of them immediately capable of movement.

He was warm against her. The thumping of her heart was mirrored by his.

Donovan shakily raised his head, and brought his hand to his mouth. When he took it away, it was dark with the rich crimson liquid that stained his lips.

Kyra looked numbly up at him. "What ...?"

He spat the device into his hand and stared at it, aghast. "It broke!"

"What?!?" She found her strength and struggled out from under him, snatching the clearplast from him.

There was a hole in it, a hole through which one of his fangs had been driven.

She touched her neck, and winced as she found a solitary, seeping wound.

"Kyra ... I'm sorry! I should have pulled out, but by the time I realized, it was too late." He pleaded with her with his eyes. "I swear to you, I did not mean it."

"I know you didn't," she said. "But what do we do now?"

"It was only once," he said in apologetic shame. "And it was only a half-bite. You've hardly lost any blood."

"You mean, maybe we'll luck out?"

"It could be. The chances against anything happening are very slight."

"But what if it does, Donovan? What if I get ..." She couldn't even bring herself to say the word.

"If it does, Kyra, I'll do the right thing," he promised, clasping her hand. "I would not run out on you, no matter your condition."

She managed a weak smile, which he tentatively returned. They lay quietly as their senses returned to normal, and then Kyra ventured another question.

"Donovan?"

"Yes, Kyra?"

"What I felt ... is it always like that? For the other person, I mean."

"No, not usually."

"Oh," she said, more wistfully than she meant to.

"It was only a half-bite," he added, flicking the empty VEIN-GUARD box with his fingernail. "As I told you ... these dull the sensation."