My God, those eyes. Piercing, blood red. His eyes are the only thing that can move my attention when we're like this. My naked body under his. Barnabas's manhood pulsating inside of me, his icy burn radiating from every inch of his immortal skin onto my warm, human flesh. It's intoxicating, the way he licks my neck, and kisses me all the way down my body, even my most intimate parts. I close my eyes, as Barnabas's thrusts get harder, and faster, and moan when he finishes inside of me. Kissing my lips one last time, Barnabas rolls off me and lays my head on his bare chest. His heart doesn't beat, but mine does. I wish it didn't.
When I married Barnabas, I knew exactly what he was. He courted me in a way I knew was completely out of this time. He never asked for me during the daylight hours. He refused to use my family's silverware. The way he spoke, was from a different time altogether. But I didn't care. The first time we kissed, he closed his eyes, but I saw his fangs. When I told him I knew, he dropped to one knee, pulled out a ring, and asked for my hand. I said yes.
"Barnabas?" I say, loving the way he looks at me.
"Yes?" he smiles a big, fang-flashing smile every time I say his name.
"How long do you wish to be with me?"
"Forever, my dear."
"You know that's impossible."
"Oh really," Barnabas laughs and I prepare for his response. "And just why is that?"
"Because you won't turn me."
"Who says, my dear, that your forever and my forever cannot be the same? Suppose, after your death, I won't stand in the sunlight, or thwart myself with a silver knife?"
"No one, love, I just assumed you wanted to spend an eternity with me."
"I do. But I will not see you suffer as I do. I will not condemn you to a sorrowful life in the shadows."
"No life with you could ever equate to my sorrow."
"Perhaps, my dear," Barnabas strokes my hair, "but you were born human."
"So were you."
"I was cursed. You are loved."
I sigh, and get out of bed, pulling on my clothes as I find them, strewn all over the floor as a result of Barnabas's hurry to undress me. His skills in the bedroom are that of a sex god from ancient Greek mythology, but I know he is holding back. He doesn't want to hurt me. I understand, but I long for the love I know he can make to me. I often fear that I am not enough for him, and he will be dissatisfied. In the kitchen, I start eying the contents of our refrigerator, all of which is for me. Being a vampire, my husband's diet differs slightly from mine. Behind me, I feel the cold chill of wind rush against my shoulders, and suddenly I feel Barnabas's hands on my waist.
"I've upset you."
"No, Barnabas, go back to bed."
"Darling, two centuries I've been on this earth, forgive me if I insist I know your disgruntled face."
"Suppose I'd never been born?"
"I'd be lonely, without love, a depressing, dark creature of the night, never revealing myself to anyone except those I use to satisfy my thirst."
"If you love me so much, can't you do one thing for me? Can't you let me be like you, let us live forever."
"My dear, can you not imagine the pain, and agony you would endure, taking another's life."
"But, you do it almost every day."
"Because I am a monster."
"I do not care! I love you! I wish to be like you!"
"Come, precious." Barnabas lifts me into the air and we are thrown against the wall outside our bedroom. Once again, I feel my skirt leaving me, and Barnabas's hands claw at my chest, tearing my shirt from me. Inside our bedroom, the bed is forgotten as my back hits the hard floor, but I do not care. I scratch Barnabas, and we hear the famous rip of his shirt. Kissing him so fiercely, my head held tight against his lips, my hands wander down Barnabas's bare chest to find the buttons of his pants. In nothing but our undergarments, we have flown to the ceiling. Rolling across it to the middle of the room, we fall to the bed, and Barnabas's teeth undo my bra, and he is careful to never touch his fangs to my skin, but always leave my breasts exposed. As he fondles them, I reach down past his waist, and we are kissing again. I pleasure him, and I feel Barnabas's hands squeezing my thighs so tightly I know he is leaving bruises, but I do not care. My panties have been thrown across the floor, and I look down to see Barnabas's black hair. What he's doing feels amazing. As I begin to moan to let him know, he lifts us back to the ceiling, and I look into his eyes. It's an erotic feeling, being pressed against the cold walls of our home while my legs are intertwined around a vampire's waist. We've never made love like this before. Perhaps, finally, he will bite me. Maybe as he is defiling me, he will be overcome with immense pleasure, enough to sink his fangs into my skin, finally. But no, he finishes, and I am too tired to begin another argument.
Perhaps I will ask him again at nightfall.