into his tan flesh. Her grip on him tightened, her nails digging into his shoulders and neck as his blood flooded into her mouth. A soft groan at the taste followed a soft sigh as she fed on him.
Her red eyes take in the sight of him wearing her blood as lipstick, and to have it smeared across his face. A sight she wouldn’t forget.
It wouldn’t be long before she too would wear her own blood as lipstick, as she kissed him back when he pulled her by her neck into it. He +
Oh, she was going to be preoccupied for quite a while. As soon as her delicate thumb makes contact with his bloody lips he tilts his head up, eyelids fluttering closed. “𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢..” One of his hands moves away from her hip, mapping a familiar pathway up the length of her —
utterly devoured her and she let him.
When he pulled away to expose his neck she wiped her lips with her arm, smearing her own blood across her cheek.
She was so hungry and she had to give in to this temptation. Her eyes said thank you as she leaned in and sank her teeth +
@walkngvengeance // Oh my gosh, I didn’t know this. I am just now seeing this. I hope this man rots in hell and never knows a day of peace. I hope you and your family are okay, and I’m so sorry about your aunt. May she rest easy ❤️
She let him feed for as long as he wanted, as if she had anywhere important to be tomorrow. Clara was all his.
The redhead continued to pet his hair until he pulled back, and that’s when she looked down at him. Him looking up at her, with her blood covering his mouth and chin.+
The sound of her voice is a distant echo once her blood hits his tongue, and he can’t help but groan at the taste of their combined flavors on his palate. She would always be his prey, the only difference was that now she was a willing participant.
Unlike with humans Ammon has —
She treated it as if it were red lipstick, raising a hand and pressing a thumb to his lips, smearing the crimson blood across his tan cheek slowly.
Clara licked her lips at the sight of him, wondering how long he would let her feed off of him, it’s been quite some time since +
Is today.
Her nails entered his dark hair again, petting his head and massaging his scalp as her fed off of her. It didn’t hurt anymore, in fact, she liked the pain. It was something she could feel.
“Fuck you.” She cooed softly, grunting in pain as he sank his teeth into her neck, something’s he’s done many times before. And it always takes her back to that time he chased her, hunted her down, as if she were his prey around her home. That day she was. And still sometimes +
She was perfect. The perfect angel.
Everything he wasn’t in so many ways. It reminded him of someone else. The last woman he had loved and lost. What him and Clara had wasn’t love, but there was still a connection there.
There’s an amber gleam in his own eyes as his gaze —
hungry for two things at once. If her late husband could see her now, he’d die again, rolling in his thousand year old grave.
Her eyes turn red as her nightgown slipped off one of her shoulders.
“One day, when I stop humoring you, what will you do?”
She abandoned her vanity, her small hands resting in his as she let him pull her from the chair. Brushing her dense curls didn’t matter anymore. Climbing onto his lap, the redhead wrapped her arms around his neck.
She was well aware of his intentions, turns out, she too was +
— “Aren’t you sweet. Come here.” She’s still as light as he remembered her as he leans forward to pull her towards him, sitting back enough so she can rest on his lap.
His teeth were hidden before, but now he lets his fangs sharpen beneath his lips.
more access to her neck. He only came here to feed, she knew that.
“You are the bane of my existence, Ammon.” She tells him, her hand reaching his scalp, again running her nails across it.
With every kiss and cold breath against her neck, she inevitably melted, sighing is surrender. Her hand raised to cup his jawline, running her manicured nails across the skin.
“I hate you,” she whispered to him, closing her eyes as she leaned her head to the side to give him +
— cold on her skin but it doesn’t matter, it isn’t like they’re very warm to begin with. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the choice in wanting this.” His lips continue down the curve of her neck, and when he reaches the scar again he moves to draw the flesh into his mouth.