Gently Bitten

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Best Part of the Costume

"Nice bite, dude."


Worming his way through the party throng into the kitchen for a glass of something to drink, John smiled automatically back at the man dressed like Pikachu, and nodded absently at the apparent compliment on his Halloween costume.  As they scootched past each other, the other man seemed to be looking at the side of John's neck, though, instead of the costume fangs in his mouth.  John put a hand to his neck.

There was a sharp ache, and his hand came away wet.  Putting it to his mouth, he tasted blood.

Blood?

His neck throbbed, and ached more.  Like a bite.  A bite?

A bite.

John remembered… making out?  On the floor in another room, on his back.  A teasing whisper, "Can I bite you?" and his start to answer yes, to a lot more than that, turning to a moan as sharp teeth bit down *just* the right amount as soon as his head started to nod.  Dizzy, feeling that ache that seemed to spread into his whole body.  Looking into her eyes.  Brown… they were brown.  And deep.  And that ache.  Sharp, and dizzy.

Time was doing strange things, and he wondered if that was what people meant when they talked about fugue states, and he realized that she was talking, had been talking for some time, her low voice describing in clinical terms but richly erotic tones exactly what effects a person might expect from mild blood loss, and the bite of a… did she say vampire?

Of course, her fangs were costume too, right?

The saliva, she said, is a mild anesthetic, and you might not even notice the feeling of the bite.  Or it might feel really good, like fingernails digging into your back when you're getting fucked in the best way.  Of course it does all sorts of things to your blood flow, why you're so dizzy and dazed… but it's all right, I've got you.  Right where I want you.  And you know the part that I like the most?

She leaned forward then and licked his neck again, and the sensation exploded in every part of his body, like expecting pain and getting drunk instead, and he felt like only the weight of her on top of him was keeping him from falling off the floor.

One of the things that keeps your sweet sweet blood flowing to me is vasodilation, she said, rolling the word around in her mouth like her tongue was touching him.  And that makes your cock happy to see me, too.  And with a hard sudden tug she pulled his pants down to where they both could see exactly what she meant.

The world was flickering from one frame to the next like a bad strobe light.  She was back on top of him again, looking deep into his eyes, and he was lost.

Dizzy, dazed, and uncontrollably hard for me, she said.  Just the way I like it.

And he was inside her, she was riding his cock and licking the world-shattering wounds on his neck and moaning in his ear, murmuring and whispering the story of exactly the best ways she liked to meet and kiss and bite and drink and fuck helpless boys who would never even be able to remember who she was, never remember anything but her eyes, never remember…

John blinked.  He couldn't remember what he'd been thinking about.  Something about…?  But he was very thirsty.  And here in the kitchen he had to be able to get a glass of something.  He reached for the stack of disposable cups.

His hand collided with someone else reaching for them too, a woman dressed like the Statue of Liberty carrying a bloody butcher's knife.  "Sorry!" she said, and smiled at him.  Her gaze flickered down to the side of his neck.  "Hey, nice bite!" she said, grinning more.

John put a hand to his neck.  There was a sharp ache, and his hand came away wet.  Putting it to his mouth, he tasted blood.  Blood?