.: TWENTY-FOUR:.

...

Rendered powerless by such an onslaught, Irina fell back against the door as if she'd been struck by a gale gusting out of nowhere; Vlad's touch a cool caress against her skin, tearing into her hair and tugging at her clothes. It was a punishing kiss, meant to silence and to smother any breath of argument left in her lungs, and after a moment – after every muscle in her body had tightened, ready to stand strong and fight it – she let go and finally allowed herself to be swept away by it.

When he suddenly pulled back, she chased his lips.

Vlad frowned as he held her face. "…Forgive me," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

Irina's eyes flashed upwards; she had a feeling that he rarely spoke such words.

"…For everything," he added, his gaze nervously meeting hers.

Irina's lips curled. "…I thought you didn't come to apologise," she reminded him. "I'm almost disappointed."

Vlad groaned softly and rolled his blue eyes. "You seem to draw good manners out of me whether I like it or not," he replied, his thumbs tracing soft circles over her freckles. "…And yet, I'm never more eager to forget them than when I'm around you."

Her gaze flashed curiously – flitting between the soft halo of wrinkles around his eyes to his lips.

Vlad hesitated. "It's… unnerving," he added, awkwardly swallowing down the taste of the words as soon as he'd said them.

"…You made me forget my manners first," Irina reminded him with a smirk.

Vlad chuckled softly, enjoying the spark of mischief in her eyes. "So I did."

She held his gaze. "…You say you don't know who you are anymore," she said as she reached up and held onto his wrists, "but I do. I know you, just as well as you know me. And I'm not going to let you forget who you are."

Vlad eyed her intensely – his hands dropping to her waist, fisting the thin wisps of silk and cotton shrouding her body. "…We know each other," he corrected with a nod.

Irina smiled as she rose up to taste his lips again. "…You draw the darkness out of me," she realised out loud, "just as I draw out the dawn lurking inside you."

At her words Vlad stooped and caught her lips, kissing her as if she'd disappear into thin air if he didn't. The doors shuddered on their hinges as he pressed her back into them – trapping her, holding her there. And yet, he worried that she'd evaporate beneath his fingertips without warning if he blinked or let go; so his hands roamed covetously – slipping under her dressing gown and smoothing over her body from her backside to her shoulder blades – desperate to memorise every curve.

When he grabbed a fistful of her tumbling curls and tugged downwards – baring her throat – Irina gasped and opened her eyes to him.

"…No running this time," Vlad warned her, his breath hot against her skin.

When his lips grazed her skin, Irina sighed. As if I could, she thought to herself, shuddering as he kissed a slow path down her neck and lapped at her clavicles. As if she wanted to; she needed him – needed this. The memory of their brief moment together all those years ago burned brightly in the back of her mind. She was desperate to fully savour what she'd sampled; she was wet and aching and he'd barely touched her.

And yet, when he pulled her body close her mind still frantically fished around for some excuse to push him away. But to her own surprise – for the first time – she came up empty. Where was she going to run to? To Prince Lupesci? To Vienna? She had nothing to protect anymore – no one to answer to, only herself. With all those nagging doubts and concerns finally silenced, Irina realised that she could finally give in to herself – give in to who she was and what she wanted most. And when Vlad smoothed his palms under the silk lapels of her dressing gown – sweeping it over her shoulders and down her arms – Irina felt the part of herself that she'd locked away fluttering under her ribs, like an impatient prisoner testing the bars of a cell – a butterfly splitting from its chrysalis, tearing to get out.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised with heavy eyes as she shrugged out of the dressing gown and allowed it to pool around her toes.

Vlad surged over her – his hands gliding up her curves. "I'm going to make sure of it," he rasped, nipping at her collarbone.

Irina wriggled impatiently as he dragged the neckline of her chemise down over her shoulders – biting her lip when she noticed his gaze darken as he slowly bared her body to the moonlight. She knew that a restless, pottering maid or a footman stumbling in drunk from a drinking den could have walked in at any moment, and yet, she didn't seem to care; in fact she basked in the thrill of it – moaning when Vlad finally filled his hands with her bare flesh.

"…The only place you'll be running to after tonight is my bed," he told her, kissing her hungrily. He nipped at her lower lip and grinned when she moaned. "In fact… you won't want to leave it."

Irina raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps one day I'll actually make it there," she purred as she untangled her arms from her chemise.

"…Oh you will," Vlad replied as he shoved the scrap of cotton down to her waist. "And once you arrive there, you'll never want to leave."

He glanced down her body; his fevered gaze following his own hand as it slowly climbed her ribs and cupped her breast. When he teased his thumb across the puckered tip and watched as she released a shaky breath and arched into his touch, he growled.

Of the many regrets that had lingered on after she'd abandoned him that night in Vienna all those years ago, the one that had perhaps tormented him the most was that he hadn't actually seen her body – that he hadn't had the pleasure of feeling its warmth against his. He'd been left to imagine her out of the gowns that she wore; left to wonder what he'd missed out on under the volumes of skirts and caging, and beneath the satin bodices that clung to her curves like a second skin. His imagination had risen to the challenge – of course – but casting his eyes finally upon the real thing was beyond what he'd envisaged, and he felt his cock harden instantly at the sight.

She was all small, sharp bones and sloping curves, with soft, pink flesh as sumptuous as the fabrics she chose to wear – and she was warm, so warm. And when he felt her heart pounding under her breast within the palm of his hand, he gulped at the thought of holding something so valuable.

He'd come to warn her not to seduce her, he reminded himself as he shrugged out of his coat and kissed her – slow and deep. But the thought never seemed to reach his grasping hands; they drifted of their own accord from her breasts to her hips, shoving the rest of the cotton chemise down her thighs until it landed with the puddle of clothes between their feet.

He followed its path south with his lips; they travelled slowly – exploring her body – gently mouthing the upward curve of her breast and teasing the nipple between his teeth before scaling her ribs one by one. He trailed his tongue over the rounded flesh of her navel – sinking lower and lower – glancing upwards now and then to catch her heated gaze – pausing only when he found himself kneeling right in front of her.

Vlad held her gaze as he reached up and cupped her backside, drawing her hips away from the doors. His eyes were swimming with mischief as he lifted her leg up and anchored it over his shoulder – her foot dangling over his back.

Irina fumbled for the door handle, gripping it tightly as she watched him kiss a path along the inside of her thigh – drawing further and further away from her knee, higher and higher – until those smirking lips of his found their way to the swollen folds of her sex. And when she felt them brush purposefully against her – kissing her, tasting her with the occasional teasing flick of his tongue – her breathing stalled and her toes curled.

She'd read a book about it once (although book was perhaps far too lofty a word for that filthy lump of wood pulp of words and engravings that she'd tucked into the back of an old history book). She'd read it repeatedly but had always doubted whether men were so inclined off the page. Growing up she'd learned never to expect such intimacy from men – and certainly not from her future husband – and yet, when she felt Vlad's mouth close over her fully she decided that she was going to need to reconsider the meaning of that word. She gulped when his tongue swirled around her opening, and when he tilled the tip inside her she barely recognised the strangled cry she made as her own.

When she rolled her hips impatiently, Vlad released a muffled chuckle and gripped them tightly – pinning her in place. "Patience," he warned her pulling back slightly – teasing her.

As he nipped and licked his way along the tops of her thighs, he could feel the blood pulsing against his lips. How tempting it was to bite into that soft flesh and feel it give way like a ripe peach. The temptation to finally taste what he'd longed for was strong – he ached for it, was hard for it – but he didn't. Instead, he returned his lips to her core – dragging his tongue along her slit. And when she fisted his hair and moaned in relief of his touch, he was resolved never to take from her again.

Irina squirmed, digging her heel into his back and struggling to breathe when Vlad's tongue finally swept upwards, moving higher until it traced lightly over her clit. She felt her whole body flush and was almost embarrassed by how easily she came apart under his touch. "You're too… too good at this," she whined – quickly realising that three hundred years practice would probably make an expert out of anyone.

Vlad grinned against her as he upped his pace, coaxing her on.

She bucked her hips to chase his touch, chase her own pleasure – revelling in the feel of his facial hair brushing against her thighs, the pressure of his lips and of his fingers pinching into her hips. She panted and dug her fingers into the grain of the door, feeling herself climbing higher and higher with each breath – each torturous flick of his tongue – and then, he sucked down hard on her clit and she stumbled over the edge – falling apart with quaking thighs and curling toes.

Vlad lapped at her through each spasm – each flutter – until she released a heavy sigh and sagged against the doors.

She'd barely taken two long breaths when he sprung to his feet and loomed over, holding her up by her waist and seizing her open lips with a kiss.

His fingers traced her bare silhouette for barely a moment before she suddenly spun in his grasp and turned her back to him. He watched as she swept the long tail of curls away from her neck and then planted her hands on the door.

Irina eyed him coquettishly from over her shoulder. "Now… about that drink I promised you," she purred.

Vlad's lips curled as he snaked his arms around her waist and pressed his body against hers.

She closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck; she could feel him, hard against her backside. "I'm no expert, of course, but I think the bottle's been sufficiently warmed…"

Vlad's hands glided up and over her breasts – his fingers teasing the puckered tips – as his lips traversed the length of her neck, searching for that spot just below her jaw, where the skin was gently throbbing over her pulse. He groaned when he found it, popping his fangs and inhaling the heady scent of her skin.

But then he stopped.

Vlad spun her to face him. "…Not quite," he replied, right before he scooped her up in his arms – locking her legs around his back.

He walked her through the dark over to a long table pushed up against the fading forest mural, where – in barely a few hours – the bread and wine would be laid out for the wedding guests. He set her down with a wolfish grin and a kiss, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Irina moved swiftly to help him; she was desperate to finally feel his skin against hers. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his velvet waistcoat until it finally fell away and dropped to the floor around his boots. She tugged his shirt from the waistline of his breeches and walked her fingertips across the flat plain of his stomach – gingerly tracing the hard grooves and muscles there. She was surprised to find that his flesh wasn't cold, but instead tepid – a clammy, feverish skin hiding a simmering warmth beneath it.

Vlad pulled his shirt over his head, bundled it and then tossed it to the side, enjoying her wide-eyed, smirking look of approval at his toned flesh.

Irina didn't just approve, she ached at the sight of him – and yet when she noticed his smug expression, she tutted and rolled her brown eyes. "…Hideous," she teased as she hooked a finger into the waistband of his breeches and pulled him towards her, bracketing his hips with her thighs and pressing her lips against his.

"Behave," Vlad warned, raising a dark eyebrow as he quickly undid his breeches. "Or I'll forget my manners."

Irina leaned back on her hands, her gaze drifting between their bodies – chewing her lip when he removed his cock and took it in hand. "In that case," she said, before slapping him hard across the cheek.

Vlad grabbed her hips and roughly pulled her to the edge of the table.

Irina's soft snigger quickly turned into a moan when she suddenly felt him hard and huge between her thighs – her fingers gripping the table.

"…Minx," Vlad teased as he hitched her thigh over his hip and then surged forward, filling her with one focused thrust. He growled as he felt her warm, wet flesh engulfed him fully.

Irina threw her head back as he settled himself inside of her. Her whole body prickled from the feel of him and she inwardly cursed herself for denying herself such a thing for so long. She opened up her thighs and released a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan when he began to move – rocking slowly back and forth – and decided that there'd never be day going forward where she wouldn't crave this – crave him.

Vlad leaned over the table, holding her body against his – enjoying the way her breasts brushed up against him as he thrust into her at a leisurely, lazy pace. There was no rush, no race to finish this time; he dragged out every thrust as if it were the first and closely watching the reaction drawn from her each time. He stooped to catch her panting mouth, kissed her arching breasts and groaned when he felt her hips rise eagerly to meet his thrusts.

And so, they danced in the darkness of the empty ballroom with nothing but the moonlight for company – bounding in each other's arms to a lively gavotte, taking it in turns to lead. When Irina's arms tired and she sprawled backwards – reclining over the surface of the table – Vlad lifted her hips and picked up the pace, mourning the loss of her warm body against his but unable to resist the way her breasts bounced with each thrust. And when she shut her eyes and moaned his name, he thought he'd come right there and then.

Instead, he leaned down over her – re-positioning her leg over his arm as he began pumping into her with purpose – his hand reaching between them and seeking out her clitoris, his nimble fingers working her – pushing her.

She clung onto him – wrapping an arm around his neck as she felt the first flutters of an impending orgasm. "…Vlad," she moaned, rolling her hips like the tide.

"Come – come for me," he commanded as he rolled his thumb and sent her spiraling, shuddering beneath him.

He rode out each wave – his pace stumbling as he followed her, saying her name into the crook of her neck with a stuttered groan as he spilled inside her. And when she sent him a breathless look and arched her neck, he popped his fangs and bit down – feeling her whole body become rigid in his arms. The taste of her blood was warm and familiar; that same bittersweet and smoky nectar he'd been chasing after for so long – mellowed and aged slightly from before.

He drank from her until she became limp, and then collapsed on top of her.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:

...Don't get too comfy, reader. There's still a Vampire AND a poisoner on the loose, as well as the matter of an impeding wedding and coup... oh, and a prostitute demanding Vlad make her a Vampire. So... yeah. I'm mostly listing all these things to remind me of all the loose ends I've yet to tie up. *sigh* writing is hard, you guys. But hey, finish line's in sight.

More next week - thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, following, favouriting! And big love to Scarlet Empress and Remember for the lovely reviews on last week's chapter - cheers guys! x