She comes back to him for the first time, unguarded, her body limp with exhaustion, despair. She's always so strong that he thinks he must be imagining this small, fragile creature on his doorstep. He stares at her helplessly, aching to reach for her but afraid. Afraid of the rejection. That swift cut of a knife that he never expected her to be able to bring, but that stings like hell. He was hoping to avoid that. Then she opens her lips and her words are like cool water to parched skin.
"Hold me."
And his muscles react immediately. Having been coiled and ready to do just that for so long that they ached with the constant pull of holding back. He surrounds her in his embrace, hands smoothing her hair, drying her cheeks, making bold sweeps against the bare skin of her back beneath her shirt and desperately soaking up all he can of what he knows will be a brief respite from the ache.
He's right. She takes what he gives her and then she's gone. He feels drained and heavy all at once.
It's a rare night of celebration in a world of otherwise constant bleakness. The occasion…nothing in particular. Strangers fill his home and drink his booze, but it doesn't matter. Because he has a pretty little blonde seeping into him. Her warm cheek pressed against his shirt, her arms cinched tightly around his waist. He rubs a strand of her hair between his fingers, memorizing the way it feels, because soon she'll peel herself away and away she'll stay until the next time she needs something from him.
"Kiss me."
She whispers against his lips. He acts immediately, covering her lips with his own. He notes the softness of her pink lips, the taste of blood and red wine on her tongue, the way she breathes the breath straight from his lungs as he presses his hips into hers, the little hum of approval she gives as she pulls away, the sexy smile, the fluttering lashes. He mentally jots it all down, because then the song is over and she slips away for another little eternity. And all he has is what he can remember, and how much it hurts to be needed, and not needed at the same time.
He wishes he could say that he's forgotten what it feels like to kiss her. To run his hands along her skin. That he couldn't tell you exactly how heat shoots down his spine when her tongue slips into his mouth and slides against his. But he does. He can. He's haunted by it. So when she climbs into his lap, knees on either side of his thighs, the slight weight of her warm on him…he wants to say no, but he doesn't, he can't. It feels so perfectly right, except for how it doesn't.
"Touch me."
It's somewhere between a plea and an order and he hesitates for only a moment before giving in. She's his salvation and his tormenter all rolled into one little package and he never really stood a chance. His hand slides up her bare thigh and toys with the hem of her dress before slipping under. She tugs on her delicious bottom lip as he reaches his destination. He watches her, attempting to take it all in. How she flushes and gasps and moves against his hand. The way she hungrily takes him in her hands and inside of her, and clings to his neck, and won't look at him as she tumbles and he follows.
He's not surprised when she leaves and he's not surprised when she comes back another small eternity later, needing him once again, but never really needing him at all.
It's morning and she's apparently forgotten to steal away in the night this time. His hands greedily seek her bare stomach, fingertips tickling the soft skin, pulling her back against him. She wiggles against him and he presses his lips against her neck. And it feels almost like it should. Almost like he needs it to feel. She stretches her arm back to stroke the back of his hair, to hold his lips gently against her neck.
"Drink me."
She purrs and the sound reverberates through her chest and into his.Blood surges unexpectedly and violently through his veins at her words. Drink her. It sounds like heaven and it sounds like hell. His fangs slip out, uninvited and he quickly scrambles away, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing the heels of his hands into his watery eyes.To consume her anymore and be denied what he needed in return would be the death of him.
"No."
She whips around to look at him, somewhere between confused and enraged.
"Why?"
He stands from the bed and paces around the room, an animal backed into a corner. A creature pushed to its limit. A man that can't take anymore.
"You come to me and you take what you need from me and then you leave."
She stares at him, lips fallen apart in shock at his suddenly protest.
"Do you know what I need?"
He's predatory, climbing back onto the bed, climbing toward her on his knees.
"I need you to let me love you. You won't let me love you. You'll let me hold you, kiss you, touch you, but you won't let me love you. You'll let me consume you but you won't let me have you."
He's surprised when her hands find his face, his jaw and her thumbs stroke his skin tenderly. He closes his eyes and leans into her touch. He's raw with emotion. And the truth. And the uneasy relief of admitting a secret that's both killing you and preserving you at the same time. When he opens his eyes, she's staring at him, smiling.
"You do have me. You have me. I'm yours. I want to be yours."
Her words wash over him, bringing instant relief and he feels full and light for the first time in as long as he can remember. He breathes for a moment letting it all sink in. He does have her. He has her. She's his. She wants to be his. He can't help the smile that spreads across his face and he falls into her arms. Her giggle makes him smile impossibly more and he begins to take note of the way the sound bounces around his dim bedroom and the way her fingertips feel against his face, but he stops. Because he doesn't have to memorize her now. Because she's here and here she's staying.
"Love me."
He's thrilled to comply. With his eyes, watery and sending a small lifetime of messages straight to hers with his gaze. With his fingers tangled together in hers. His teeth sinking into her neck and drinking deeply, slowly, consuming her now happily knowing that she finally belongs to him as much as he belongs to her, or with the knowledge that she always had.