At a single blow all my doubts to take Francois’s life are swept away. When it comes to my food, I am and remain a selfish bastard. For example, I love these little midnight delicacies and I’m sure Francois, for that matter, will be a apparentness . How do I know? No idea. Pure instinct. “Say, do you often do such nocturnal walks through the park?” Francois suddenly pulls me out of my thoughts, when we arrive at the back of the bank.
“Every now and then, when I find such a charming companion like you,” I flirt with a smile. “Why? Are you afraid so alone with me here in the dark? ” My voice takes on a gentle, seductive sound as I gently pull the perplexed Francois in my arms and and push him back against the wooden park bench, so he cannot escape. We loose ourselves in each others eyes. On its own my left hand finds its way into his wonderfully soft hair.
An amused smile plays around his lips. “No, I’m not afraid. Not with you by my side. Quite the contrary. In your presence I feel perfectly safe” he replies whispering and winks at me smiling, while he clasps me with both hands in the middle in order to draw me closer to him. I clearly feel his arousal on my own. Hear the rapid beating of his heart and the sound of blood flowing through his veins. … Ah, soon the beast in me rejoices.
My gaze comes to rest on his rapidly rising and falling chest, wanders higher to the open placket of his T-shirt and gets stuck on his delicate collarbone. I can no longer resist. I have to touch him. Tenderly I stroke with the index finger on the protruding bone, from there further along up the neck. Finally I take a firm grip into his neck and pull his head closer to me. Close enough to touch his lips with mine. The touch is gently, like the wings of a butterfly, but it finally awakens the beast in me.
The desire to beat my fangs into the soft skin of the curve of his neck is overwhelming, but I decide to repress it in the farthest corners of my mind. Hold me back deliberately. Kiss him instead. Gentle, inquisitive, not demanding I ask admission to his so tempting mouth. He grants it without hesitation. Returns my kiss full of devotedness. A shiver runs down my spine. Volatile memories flicker briefly before my mind’s eye. Memories of that night when I learned that sometimes kissing can be more intimate than to make love to somebody.
Francois kisses damn good. So good that I even forget that he is the main dish on my menu actually. When our lips finally solve each other and our eyes meet for a long glance, I ask quietly with an enigmatic smile: “Well, well, so you feel safe in my presence, yes?” “Yes,” he confirms promptly. “. Very safe” Whereat I reply with a smug grin that bares my fangs: “Well, my dear, that is then probably what you would call a fatal error.” The astonished, frightened eyes and the loud “Fuck ” that escapes him, as he looks at me with his glance wide full of horror, makes me smile.
Reassuring, I tickle his neck. Feel his anxiety under my fingers, can hear his pulse racing, but I smell no fear. Why he is not afraid of me? He can not really be so naive to think that he would come out of this alive. No way! Not in my back yard! I never leave traces, or even witnesses. Pure survival instinct. Thus, as I learned from her who once had created me. Never to take unnecessary risks.
I feel Francois thoughtful glance rest on my face and look him right into his, in the half-shadow, dark gleaming eyes. He doesn’t avoid my gaze. “You’ll kill me, right?” With a slight nod, I confirm his suspicion however without solving my eyes from his. A deep breathe on his part. The way he looks at me now gives me, who actually thought that nothing could easily touch me anymore, a cold shiver down the spine. It seems as if he can see into the deepest depths of my immortal and probably not even existing soul. Although I am for so long now what I am, I have not been able to fathom until today, whether I still have something like a soul.
Francois once again breathes in and out deeply. He tightens his posture. He suggests a nod, before he takes his farewell with his glance, closes his eyes, slowly lays back his head and presents me his throat with touching devotion, resigned to his fate. “Enjoy your meal” he asks me almost in a whisper and I can not help to show my admiration and respect for his attitude.
I’m only too glad to acceppt his invitation. Caress gently with my lips over his subtle tanned skin. Crack it gently with my fangs, so that small trickles of blood form which I lick up delightfully with my tongue. I enjoy with all my senses what offers itself to me. See, smell, taste. Feel Francois tremble and hear him moan softly, which turns me on even more. I am getting downright intoxicated by his scent, his beauty and magic of the moment.
To be continued with the final part…
© Copyright 2011 by The Storyteller’s Garden
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