Chapter Nineteen

Sunlight bled into the bedroom through the large window, the rays gently rousing Agatha into consciousness. The room was perfectly situated to capture the sunrise each morning and yet heavy curtains framed the window; they had not been drawn the previous night because there was no longer a need to shun the light but it saddened her to think that Dracula had denied himself such a simple pleasure for centuries. Of course, she too had denied herself certain pleasures; there had been no shame in choosing a life of piety but, unlike him, she had not truly known what she had been missing all those years at the convent. Now that she'd tasted the forbidden fruit, the reality easily surpassing the dreams that had kept her warm at night, she could not imagine denying herself the pleasures of the flesh ever again. However, after yesterday's events in the cemetery she might have to; for a short while at least.

After scrubbing Dracula clean and cajoling him into resting without her, he had slept for eight straight hours, looking much more refreshed when he had awoken and sought out her presence. Finding her hunched over the ridiculously long table that dominated the apartment, still carefully poring over the information that had been gathered on the Harker Foundation, he had returned the favour and coaxed her into bed. But after a quick nightcap of warm blood for them both before retiring, once in bed he had simply curled himself around her and fallen immediately back to sleep without even trying to seduce her. He was still there now, his face pressed against her neck and half of his body covering most of her own, sleeping - quite literally - like the dead.

Gently, Agatha slipped one hand up his back and into his hair, reluctant to wake him. He needed to rest and she was content to enjoy the closeness after almost losing him the previous day - and the feeling of his skin pressed against her own; she had never slept naked until she had invited Dracula into her bed but the intimacy that resulted from a lack of clothing was a very close substitute for sexual intercourse. Every part of her that was touching him tingled delightfully but that would have to suffice for now. However, she could not stop her fingers from idly running through his hair and the contact was enough to rouse him.

"Good morning," she greeted with a smile when Dracula craned back his head to meet her eyes, the rest of him remaining pressed against her. She moved her hand down to his neck and she briefly scanned his face for any lingering signs of weariness before settling her gaze back on his.

"It certainly is," he grinned up at her.

His voice was rough with traces of sleep still attached to it; his hair was a tousled mess of thick, dark locks; and his jaw was peppered with the stubble that he shaved off every morning, insisting that a beard was not becoming of a gentleman though she suspected that he just disliked the hints of grey. He was a very appealing sight and she was beginning to believe that Dracula had been created solely for her, though perhaps she was simply searching for justification for her own actions and feelings where he was concerned. Either way, there was no denying the effect he was having upon her; a dull ache was already making itself known between her legs.

Toning down her smile, and desisting from caressing him with her fingertips, she tried not to think about his soft lips, surrounded by prickly stubble, pressed against her own; or tugging at those thick, dark locks as his mouth descended her body; or his rough voice vibrating against her ear as he moved inside of her. But it was difficult when they were both naked and they persisted even as she enquired, "How are you feeling?"

"Much improved," Dracula replied, slowly lifting his weight off her and edging his way up the bed. Agatha took the opportunity to quickly turn on to her side, leaving one arm stretched out along the pillow, and he frowned briefly at her manoeuvre before lying down beside her, mirroring her position but trapping her arm between his neck and the bed. Cradling her cheek with his free hand, he leaned in and kissed her softly, pulling back just far enough to murmur, "And I owe it all to you, Agatha."

"I couldn't let my favourite research subject come to any harm," she replied casually, as if she hadn't knocked a man out cold, or placed herself between Dracula and Jack Seward, or insisted on cleaning him up before tucking him into bed to get some rest. As if she hadn't done all of those things because she loved him. Her free hand was now resting on his chest, maintaining some distance between their bodies but their feet and lower legs were now tangled together and, coupled with his answer to her enquiry, she was sure that he had no intention of resting any longer.

Dracula grinned at her words, his hand slowly travelling down her neck to her hip, fingers skimming lightly over her shoulder and arm along the way. Caressing her hip with his thumb, he clarified, and in a tone that suggested he was deadly serious, "Your only research subject."

"You are very demanding," she chided, his possessive tone not as irritating as it should have been when he was touching her like that, slowly stoking her desire for him. "That leaves me with little time for anyone else."

"Good," he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

Leaning back, Agatha pressed her hand against his chest and Dracula paused, his eyes searching her own. Certain parts of her body were also questioning the action but it had been less than a day since he'd been attacked and it seemed prudent not to rush into anything even if that was what they both desired. And Dracula would put her needs before his own, as the previous day had shown, whether he was capable or not. And there was something that they needed to discuss, having only deferred doing so the previous night precisely because he had still been recovering.

"The Harker Foundation cleaned up the mess you made at the cemetery," Agatha advised and he dropped his head back on to the pillow. She had spent several hours with Frank discussing the intricacies of the Harker Foundation the previous afternoon whilst Dracula had rested, occasionally checking news reports and social media for any fallout from the incident at the cemetery; the complete absence of any mention had not been too much of a surprise given the Foundation's previous success in dealing with bloodshed after an encounter with Dracula. She had eventually sent Frank home to get some rest, too but had spent the next few hours wondering what to do next - and something had to be done or they would be trapped in a vicious cycle with the Foundation that would never end.

"As tiresome as they are, they do know how to keep a tidy slaughterhouse," Dracula replied, albeit grudgingly, and then began to run his hand along the side of her body, his long fingers draping over on to her back as his palm slowly smoothed its way from her thigh to her ribs and then back again.

The motion of his hand was not helping her resolve but she did not physically stop him. However, she did push on with the conversation because there was one piece of information that had been missing the previous night that she was curious to learn. "What did that mercenary say to make you so angry?"

"The same threat as before: if I didn't go with them they would take you instead," Dracula replied, his hand still lazily moving along her body as he spoke. It abruptly stopped on her hip, a promise in his eyes and voice as he added on, "I will never let that happen to you, Agatha."

"They'll try again," she warned, though she was not surprised by his explanation. He had told her from the start that he would kill to protect her - it was why she wasn't too upset by his actions at the cemetery - but what did perturb her was the thought of the Harker Foundation finally succeeding and taking Dracula away from her. It was now very clear to her just how far she would go to protect him.

"They will," he agreed, his fingers drumming lightly against her hip in thought. They stopped moving when he came up with a solution to their problem. "I could just kill them all," he suggested, rather hopefully.

"No," Agatha replied, shaking her head as best as she could against the pillow. "No more killing, Vlad. There's been far too much death."

Dracula frowned slightly, "Then what, Agatha?"

"We can bide our time until Frank comes up with a less murderous solution. After all, we have an abundance of it and enough money to do anything and go anywhere. We don't even have to remain in England," she suggested, voicing the only option that really appealed to her. It had been her idea to stay here all this time; partly so that she could get used to being a vampire, partly so that she could get used to being Dracula's prey in an entirely new way and partly because she'd felt a strange sort of affinity with this island - the latter she suspected was wrapped up in the time she'd spent with her niece and a lingering interest in the family business over which Zoe had presided.

But she was managing to control the hunger of the vampire with a constant supply of ethically sourced blood; she had discovered that being Dracula's lover was more pleasurable than just being his prey; and the Harker Foundation seemed Hell-bent on parting her, in one way or another, from the man - the beast - that she loved. And she had meant what she had told Jack in the cemetery: she wanted to live, to have the life that she had denied herself by following her calling, and that could not be achieved in England.

"That sounds awfully like conceding defeat," he complained, a small pout forming on his lips.

The pout was, annoyingly, making her insides twist in a not unpleasant manner but he was also ceding to her wishes which was just as, if not more, arousing. She was either going to have to wrench herself from the bed or take what she wanted and pray that Dracula really did know the limit of his own capabilities. It wasn't a difficult decision, helped by the fact that his hand had began to roam across her body once again.

"Think of it as more of a tactical retreat until we can come up with a better solution," she offered, curling the arm that was trapped beneath his head so that it lay across his shoulders. She moved her other hand up his chest and around his neck, fingers scraping into his hair, "And in the meantime I'm sure we can find ways to entertain each other."

Dracula kissed her again, longer and harder, his hand sliding further up her side and brushing his thumb against her now exposed breast. "One thing does come immediately to mind," he grinned, his mouth barely an inch from hers.

He was touching her, and kissing her, so perfectly, adding more fuel to the desire that was running through her entire body, but he'd had plenty of practise in that respect. Dracula had taken great delight in discovering exactly what brought her the most pleasure, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her skin until she was certain that he knew her body better than she did herself. "Only to your mind?"

"No," he assured her, sliding his hand down to her arse and holding Agatha in place as he pressed against her.

A low moan of appreciation erupted from deep within her at the contact; he wasn't completely hard but, much to her surprise and excitement, he was definitely livelier than he had been the previous afternoon. "One really should not underestimate the resilience of the vampire," she remarked, trying to act nonchalant even though her initial response had given her away.

"Or how much I want you, Agatha," Dracula growled, leaning in to kiss her again and again, growing more demanding each time his lips pressed against hers.

The succession of hungry kisses sent sparks shooting around her body and seeking more, Agatha shifted her hips slightly, parting her legs in the process, until he was right where she needed him to be. The first time she ground against him they both moaned at the sensation; his hand slipped up to the base of her spine, fingertips running up and down the line of her back as she repeated the movement, her mouth seeking out his with the same hunger he'd shown. Every circle of her hips brought her a little closer to climax but when Dracula slipped his tongue in to her mouth she began craving a different kind of penetration.

"Agatha," Dracula practically whined her name when she broke their kiss and distance began to grow between their bodies. The protest that had been about to follow swiftly died when her hand released his neck to venture lower, grasping his now fully erect dick and slinging one of her legs over his own.

The growl he emitted when she dragged his penis along her centre was so delicious that she considered repeating the action for an encore but she'd just be teasing herself as well as Dracula. His hand was gripping her thigh tightly, helping to smooth the way, but he did not try to take control, letting her set the pace of their joining. It wasn't unusual - he really did enjoy being bossed around by her - but she was mindful of rushing his recovery. She proceeded slowly, keeping her eyes locked with his as she gradually took him inside her body, enjoying the feeling of being stretched so exquisitely and the sight of his eyes darkening in response as they came together.

When their bodies were completely flush, Agatha ran her hand up his arm and into his hair, her fingers cradling the back of his head. His forehead was pressed against her own and he was panting lightly in what she suspected was restraint but could also possibly be the lingering effects of yesterday's attack. "Is this okay?"

Dracula nodded in response before kissing her again, his hand slowly tracing along the underside of her leg. Smoothing his palm over her backside, pausing there to squeeze one cheek, his hand came to rest on her lower spine again.

The contact wasn't sufficient to stop Agatha from moving and she slowly flexed her pelvis, taking him out of her body and then back in again. After a few languid cycles Dracula started to hold her body to his on the downstroke, lazily grinding against her before releasing her to resume her movements. The extra stimulation made her gasp into his mouth and increase her pace.

Agatha knew that it would not take her much longer to reach her climax; every kiss, every touch and every word he'd bestowed upon her had steadily added to her arousal and now she was so close that she could almost taste it but she wanted Dracula there with her. He had matched her quickening movements, continuing to rub against her, but there was now less control in his actions.

Certain that he was staving off his own pleasure to ensure hers she decided to make sure that, this time at least, he would come first. "I love you," she breathed against his lips, cognisant of the effect those words had on him the previous day.

The words had him jerking against her, the hand at her back now holding Agatha tightly to him and his mouth fused with hers as he exploded inside her. The force of his reaction sent her hurtling over the edge after him, carried there by waves of pleasure that spread out from the centre of her body to the tips of her fingers and toes.

And Agatha fell into the abyss with Dracula once again.