Country Road
A/N: Inspired by an unpublished song by an unpublished band, Flower in a Shot Glass. Forgive the shortness of the piece. Hopefully it still works for ya. ;) One-shot.
I stood on the side of the highway, panting in the late summer heat. The moon stretched above me, a million miles away and yet bathing me in iridescent light. Blood dripped from swollen wounds, caked with rich bayou soil. My hair was tangled and damp against my neck and shoulders, strewn with branches and dirt.
I dropped the knife. It clattered flatly on the baked asphalt, ringing in my ears long after the noise had dissipated.
Stop.
I stepped onto the road, hot under my bare feet. My toes were cut, covered in prickly burrs. My heel spilled more blood than I could have imagined possible. I heaved a breath and stared back into the dark woods.
The Viking emerged like a dark angel, his own injuries cured by time. His porcelain skin glowed in the nighttime, and his white blond hair fell loose around his face like a curtain. Though he had no need to breathe, he was panting like a wild animal. His fangs were drawn, and his mouth was painted with blood.
Stop, my lover.
But I couldn't stop, not now. I couldn't stop.
I grabbed him by the wrist, ignoring my broken knuckles, my bloody fingers. I dragged him from the woods and pulled him out into the bright and empty night. My heart raced, so loud that it beat in his ears and bounced back into me. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, savored it, fucked it, let it fuck me. Don't stop. Don't ever stop.
His hands flew down to my waist, pushed my shirt roughly up over my ribs. My body was broken and beaten, torn and twisted, and I had lived. Lived. I wasn't going to die in there. I was going to live. He ripped the garment from me and threw it into the old country road. It dropped like a brick.
Belt buckles clanging. Zippers zipping. I want to fuck you.
I stabbed him again and again, pelvis to pelvis, fingernails digging into his perfect skin. We crumbled on the pavement, bodies in motion. His penis penetrated me like a train collision. Battering ram. Perfection. I screamed into the night, letting the sensation of life ride through me.
We made it. I'm alive. I want to fuck you.
His hands squeezed my hips, my breasts. His tongue swirled around my nipple and then caught between his razorlike teeth. Blood seeped from me, every cut, every orifice. It dripped over his lips, along his tongue, savored like brandy. I rocked, rocked like an addict feeling her fix. I drowned in him, in us, in the pristine night. Sweat collected in beads and drizzled down my back, my hips.
I want to fuck you. Is that alright?