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I'm an addict, I know it.
I felt it - eyes burning with tears I couldn't afford to let fall as I watched my lover with another woman, watched him drive his passion into her body and watched as Claire's lifeblood went down his throat. I felt it, deep and hard inside like a punch to the gut when he told me that he didn't dare trust himself to bite me, to bleed me because of the horror of the bestial god within him. His words that seared in my memory as Deacon told me that he was unable to trust himself not to let that part of him out upon me while we lay in our bed.
I felt it each time I was near my immortal bodyguard-my former lover; the temptation so strong and hard to fall into Adrien's arms and beg for his lips to touch my skin and his body to take mine, for his fangs to enter my flesh and give up my dreams and my promises to Deacon, my lover. I have tried to tell myself over and over that it is not cheating on Deacon to allow others to taste my blood, for other men or women to open my veins and give me that pain/pleasure that sweeps me away harder than any simple orgasm can do. It is simply feeding; simply - ah. I cannot lie to myself, even though I, by omission, lie to my fiance about how much I truly miss his former undead reality.
The pain, that pleasure and the release of endorphins in my system; mmm. Being held tight within arms like banded steel, stronger than any mere human. I am light as a feather in those arms, light and floating away as my body responds to the chill of the vampire's body on mine. The chill that becomes warm with every drop of my blood he take in. It's more than feeding, it's far more earthly and intimate than simply sex. He takes my blood to be alive, I take the long and sweet, floating euphoria that comes from the feeding. I long for it, and oh how I miss it.
I do not know why, in all this time I've never been affected physically in the years that Deacon fed upon me. Perhaps vampires have some control over the bodies of who they bite? I have never felt the need to drink blood myself in all this time. I have never lost my taste or desire or ability to walk in sunlight, I have never lost the need for sleep. My skin remains tanned, my blood pumps as it always has through my veins. I have never died, and risen as one of the undead. I am as weak in strength, as slow in speed, and as mortal as the day we met, he and I. So too am I mortal even after Adrien's fangs pierced my throat, after he fed upon me as well, so deeply. I am still - still me.
And now? Now Deacon no longer walks in the shadows alone. Now he too can enjoy the sun on his skin and the taste of meat from a fork, the taste of wine from a cup. I should be happy, I should be ecstatic that I have helped in some small way to rescue him from the insanity and eternal dreams of vampiric conquest that he had when he walked among them as a leader and a god. I should be...and I am, believe me I am! I love Deacon, so much. So very much.
But still I pass the empty shell of the Near Dark nightclub, still I drive by the dance halls and bars where once vampires walked and stalked in the darkness. I drive by, trying not to look and stare to see a familiar pale skin tone or predatory glance of the eye. I find myself caressing my throat and wishing for a pair of cold lips to fasten upon me there, to hold me tight as I writhe and thrust their fangs deep into skin, perhaps thrust their cocks deep inside as well, as I open my legs to receive them. I have even... and I shudder to think this, much less confess this aloud even to my journal. I have dreamed of meeting up with Adrien once more, to share with him what I cannot with Deacon-if he were to let me.
I oh god, I have even had fantasies of, of going back to New York City and walking the streets there once the streetlights have been lit. To see if I could be found, or if I could find... ah. I see how far I've fallen, to want a monster like that to touch me...again. I am so ashamed, yet I cannot get these images from the dark, twisted corners of my mind.
What choice do I have? I've tried to be good, tried to be strong for him, for us. I've tried... I'm trying. I'll keep trying. I swear, I'll keep trying. I'm strong. I can do this. I have to do this!
But - it's not really cheating, is it?
I felt it - eyes burning with tears I couldn't afford to let fall as I watched my lover with another woman, watched him drive his passion into her body and watched as Claire's lifeblood went down his throat. I felt it, deep and hard inside like a punch to the gut when he told me that he didn't dare trust himself to bite me, to bleed me because of the horror of the bestial god within him. His words that seared in my memory as Deacon told me that he was unable to trust himself not to let that part of him out upon me while we lay in our bed.
I felt it each time I was near my immortal bodyguard-my former lover; the temptation so strong and hard to fall into Adrien's arms and beg for his lips to touch my skin and his body to take mine, for his fangs to enter my flesh and give up my dreams and my promises to Deacon, my lover. I have tried to tell myself over and over that it is not cheating on Deacon to allow others to taste my blood, for other men or women to open my veins and give me that pain/pleasure that sweeps me away harder than any simple orgasm can do. It is simply feeding; simply - ah. I cannot lie to myself, even though I, by omission, lie to my fiance about how much I truly miss his former undead reality.
The pain, that pleasure and the release of endorphins in my system; mmm. Being held tight within arms like banded steel, stronger than any mere human. I am light as a feather in those arms, light and floating away as my body responds to the chill of the vampire's body on mine. The chill that becomes warm with every drop of my blood he take in. It's more than feeding, it's far more earthly and intimate than simply sex. He takes my blood to be alive, I take the long and sweet, floating euphoria that comes from the feeding. I long for it, and oh how I miss it.
I do not know why, in all this time I've never been affected physically in the years that Deacon fed upon me. Perhaps vampires have some control over the bodies of who they bite? I have never felt the need to drink blood myself in all this time. I have never lost my taste or desire or ability to walk in sunlight, I have never lost the need for sleep. My skin remains tanned, my blood pumps as it always has through my veins. I have never died, and risen as one of the undead. I am as weak in strength, as slow in speed, and as mortal as the day we met, he and I. So too am I mortal even after Adrien's fangs pierced my throat, after he fed upon me as well, so deeply. I am still - still me.
And now? Now Deacon no longer walks in the shadows alone. Now he too can enjoy the sun on his skin and the taste of meat from a fork, the taste of wine from a cup. I should be happy, I should be ecstatic that I have helped in some small way to rescue him from the insanity and eternal dreams of vampiric conquest that he had when he walked among them as a leader and a god. I should be...and I am, believe me I am! I love Deacon, so much. So very much.
But still I pass the empty shell of the Near Dark nightclub, still I drive by the dance halls and bars where once vampires walked and stalked in the darkness. I drive by, trying not to look and stare to see a familiar pale skin tone or predatory glance of the eye. I find myself caressing my throat and wishing for a pair of cold lips to fasten upon me there, to hold me tight as I writhe and thrust their fangs deep into skin, perhaps thrust their cocks deep inside as well, as I open my legs to receive them. I have even... and I shudder to think this, much less confess this aloud even to my journal. I have dreamed of meeting up with Adrien once more, to share with him what I cannot with Deacon-if he were to let me.
I oh god, I have even had fantasies of, of going back to New York City and walking the streets there once the streetlights have been lit. To see if I could be found, or if I could find... ah. I see how far I've fallen, to want a monster like that to touch me...again. I am so ashamed, yet I cannot get these images from the dark, twisted corners of my mind.
What choice do I have? I've tried to be good, tried to be strong for him, for us. I've tried... I'm trying. I'll keep trying. I swear, I'll keep trying. I'm strong. I can do this. I have to do this!
But - it's not really cheating, is it?
