Page 8 of Sanguine
Bastien looks up at me with something like shock, and I’m wondering if maybe he’s never had a clumsy virgin come all over him before, and maybe he’s disgusted by it—
Before I can even finish the thought, he’s kissing me, devouring my mouth with skillful, pressing strokes, driving every other thought and worry from my mind. Between us, my exposed cock gives an eager kick, and he pulls back, lips swollen and pupils blown.
“I have to fuck you now,” he says hoarsely.
“Okay,” I agree, and then he grabs my hand and yanks me toward his bedroom. I manage to sort of tuck myself back together as we go, although the horse is rather out of the barn as far as pride goes at this point, given that I just came all over his floor after he did nothing more than hold me in his hand.
“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, partially to himself as he tugs me along. “And I’ve seen a lot. My God, how am I going to do this. Avirgin. Think, Bastien, think.” He lets go of my hand to flap his own in a sort of vague, horny distress.
“Bastien,” I say as we reach his bed.
“What?”
“I’m very big.”
“Iknowthat, Aaron, I just saw how big you are. Why do you think I’m in such a state?”
It’s never occurred to me before that a vampire could be, well, cute, but there’s something very cute about how fussy he is when it comes to his reactions to me. “No, I mean, I’m a strong bloke. Sturdy and tough, you know? And the Order—” I won’t mention the grim endurance tests of pain and strength, because even in my limited experience, I know it wouldn’t make good bedroom talk, so I settle for, “The Order made me even tougher. You can’t hurt me.” I think of the stranger Bastien drank from last night, his eyes fluttering in ecstasy as his hips mindlessly rolled against a vampire’s. “I want you to be at your wickedest.Please.”
For a moment, Bastien looks almost young. Helpless with his own wanting. And then he’s all vampire again, hungry and heavy-lidded. Very, very wicked as he unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. The wickedest as he toes off his shoes and removes his socks and unbuttons his pants. The ruddy head of his erection peeps out above his zipper, swollen and dark against his pale stomach, and the fading sun over the ocean bathes his perfect form in pink and purple-hued light as he walks toward me.
“Clothes off,” he says, not bothering withpleaseorthank you. “Let me see this priest who needs to sin so badly.”
With shaking hands, I do as he says, peeling off my sweater and shoes and pants. The bedroom has large glass doors that fold open, and the breeze comes right up off the water, sweet and soft and somewhere right between warm and cool. Shadows move through the room as the trees and shrubs outside rustle in the breeze, and by the time I’m naked, Bastien is in front of me, running appreciative hands all over my body like a shadow himself, like the actual darkness is beckoning me into an embrace.
And I go willingly.
“Down, sweet priest,” he whispers, guiding me onto the bed, onto my back. “Down, down. Let me have a taste.”
I expect his mouth on mine after that, or maybe even on my neck, but it’s my stomach where I feel his kiss first, hungry and quick, and by the time I tense and gasp underneath it, he’s already moved down to my navel, and then down the trail of hair to the base of my cock.
I’m not ready for it, not ready for how soft his mouth is, how wet, how it’s almost like tickling but it’s not, tickling isn’t the right word at all.
“What can’t I do to you,” Bastien murmurs, almost to himself.
“Nothing,” I whisper to the ceiling. And then his fangs sink into my erection.
It should hurt, and for the first instant it does, a spark of pain sizzling up my spine, but it’s replaced immediately with pure, delicious pleasure as Bastien begins to suck. It’s indecent, yes, so indecent, a vampiretheredoingthat—it should be the ultimate boundary for a priest sworn to destroy vampires. But I’m not a priest anymore, and my body is aching down to the marrow for his sharp, bloody kiss. I don’t know what kind of magic vampires possess—or if it’s some biological mechanism designed to help them catch and keep prey—but his fangs feelgood. An invasion, yes, but an invasion like his tongue in my mouth is an invasion, an invasion like his dark eyes in my mind are an invasion. And each suck—thesuck—oh my God, it’s almost better than coming itself, it’s like Bastien is yanking pleasure out of my body, like he’s drawing the very heart of me out through his bite.
And that it’s on my cock …
“Fuuuck,” Bastien says, wrenching himself away, his mouth bloody in the dark. I can feel the wet smear of where he was sucking me on my dick, and I’m harder than fucking ever. “Fuck. I could do that forever, do you understand? I could drink from your cock every night and never get sick of it. What are you doing to me? No, don’t try to answer, I know you’ll just grunt at me and then I won’t have any more information than before you grunted. Don’t move.”
It’s nearly dark outside, with only the last lavender blush of dusk and the pool lights outside to light the room, and so it’s his silhouette I watch as he goes to a table by the bed and pulls out a small bottle.
“In case you don’t already know, vampires can’t carry human infections,” Bastien says, coming back to the bed. “So we don’t need protection.”
“You’re not worried about getting me pregnant?” I ask, and Bastien pauses between my legs, his head tilted.
“Aaron, did you justmake a joke? You did! You made a joke! I’m so proud, I’m like your joke-father, except not really, that would be creepy, unless—I mean, if you want to call medaddy, I am not opposed to that at all, I think I could get used to Daddy Bastien if we worked on it.”
I’m smiling at him, at the ebullience of him even with his dick jutting out from his hips and his mouth still wet with blood, and that’s when I hear the bottle click open and then feel the slick press of his finger.
I grunt as my blood-smeared cock gives a leap. A hot feeling knots itself tight in my belly, low down, and it cinches my balls up to my body.
“My virgin priest,” Bastien croons, adding another finger. He does something—presses somewhere—and a groan tears out of my chest. My hips leave the bed as I follow some unknown instinct and try to fuck up in the air, needing more, needing to fuck or be fucked or anything really, so long as it’smore.
“I’m giving you my cock now, mon prêtre. Open for me—yes, like that—do you feel me against you? That’s it, yes, breathe, breathe, my wonderful seeker of wickedness. Oh, I love how you squirm, I love how those powerful hips buck for me. Yes, almost there, breathe, breathe. Do you feel me, sweetheart? I feel you, and you feel like a hot fist clenched around my shaft. I’m not going to last long, not with you, you sweet, brutal man. Fuck.”
