( shaky mitt moving to
hold one side of others neck.
thumb pressing 'gainst
area she wants to masticate . . .
slot right above collar bone. )
is here good ? . .
( letting out mewl as ivories
unlatch from pale skin.
breath shallow n' rugged.
blood pooling in little beads at
shoulder, eyes half lidded and
glazed over. )
take me to dinner first
before mutilating my neck.
&&
His teeth sink deeper.
Jaw tensing, the tips of his top
canines nearly touching the bottoms
through skin and muscle.
He’s fully prepared to take a chunk ,
but he pulls back before giving her
an injury that won’t be pretty.
‘ You taste .. real good. ‘
—