The characters of Moonlight don't belong to me, and I make no money from them.
This is Beth's POV.
You stretch languidly after you shed your clothes, then look appraisingly at me, lying naked on our bed. It makes me blush. It lets me feel warm and welcome and desirable.
When I look at you, all male, plains of muscled chest and abdomen and back, hard tendons in your neck and arms and thighs, I feel somewhat lucky and – inadequate.
But now you stretch out besides me and start to nibble and lick and kiss. I lose my thought.
My body heats up, flushed against your cool touch. I feel you warm up, too. It's lovely. No more personal space. I can smell you, as you can smell me. I touch you wherever I can, stroking over your sides and back, tousling your hair while we kiss, slowly, leisurely.
You can't get near enough now. You bury your head into the crook of my neck, holding me close, so my heartbeat warms us both, my sweat slicks you up, my labored breath shakes both our bodies. I have enough life for you and me. I hold you warm and safe.
It's heaven, but it's not enough. I briefly mourn the loss of your tickling hair, of your mouth on me, when you raise your body above me and your eyes ask for permission. They are silverblue and full of desire. You smirk, as if you did something funny, and your fangs peek out between your lips. I smile back and nod. A moan comes from deep inside me when you lower yourself into me. You gasp in pleasure. I float away in bliss, drenched in passion.
You connect so deeply with me, there's no ending and beginning. We are one. Then there is rhythm, and building heat and tension, sweet and aching and growing. My need grows, as does yours. I pant into your ear, and it's like sweet music to you. I can feel how much you want me to unravel in your arms. You use your hand on the places I like them the most, and I shatter.
You always try to make it heaven for me before you even think about yourself. But judging from your snarls and the beads of sweat on your neck you are on the edge of your endurance. It takes a lot to make your perpetually cool body sweat, and I take the challenge to make you come undone. I lick the point below your Adam's apple to taste you, then move around to the jugular, licking, pecking. Your eyes flicker, you growl, your breath hitches, your rhythm falters. So I nod once, twice, to show you that I want you to go further. I am not afraid.
Your lips, your teeth graze my skin wherever you can reach, searching for the perfect spot. I don't really care where you bite, but you still try to build anticipation. You always wait until the time is exactly right. And while the tension is building again, me losing myself in emotion and sensation, my blood boiling towards you, you find the spot and bite.
Time holds no meaning any more. It's exhilarating, the perfect communion, and I spiral towards oblivion at a rate that would almost scare me if I didn't know how much you take care of me. I don't have to worry, I don't have to stay alert, I can rely on you and let go. You have enough control for us both. You drink my emotions, my life, and I can almost imagine that I feel yours too.
When I come to, you lay on your side next to me, softly stroking my hair, eyes dark hazel again. I take your face into my hands and kiss you, tenderly. One day you will go this one step further and turn me. Whatever happens, I want to stay with you.
You have my heart. You can take my blood, my soul. I already belong to you.