For Dracula, there indeed was a difference between kissing and what he liked to call 'smoochy time.'
Kissing was sweet and nice, whether it was a quick peck or a long, lingering brush of lips and tongues that could only be shared in private and away from prying eyes. Kissing was a quick display of love, a reminder that he wasn't alone, that he had a zing to adore and cherish for many years to come.
But smoochy time was much more than that. Smoochy time meant kissing, yes, but it was quick to arouse and fast paced, the rapid pecks in succession turning into a heated session of passion. It meant using cheesy pickup lines that worked in creating a sensual atmosphere. It meant calling each other the most absurd nicknames - like Count Wonderful or Dark Prince of Loviness - and still feeling that lustful ache when their lips would press together. It meant getting lost in the sensations, and letting that monstrous side of him guide him through the frenzy of desire, reeling in his most primal instincts to touch and taste and mark his beloved. It meant taking on a sole role in that moment as not a father or the manager of a successful five-stake hotel or even a Vampa (vampire grandpa), but as a husband bestowing his undying devotion to his wife. It meant it was worth missing out on some rendezvous with his friends or delaying some emergency out in the hotel. It meant giving up the last bit of dignity that he was capable of preserving and becoming an animal driven solely by need. It meant proceeding to take their activities beyond those kisses, where their bodies would unite in the natural act of copulation that they so craved with one another.
It meant allowing himself to indulge in his wildest fantasies of intimacy, to be reduced to nothing but a beast desperate to show his wife exactly how he felt about her, reaffirming her place in his heart and dark soul by claiming her in the most carnal way possible. It meant giving in to the hunger stirred within the depths of his being, one that he had once thought had been gone completely from him, but as it turned out was only dormant after Ericka entered into his life. It meant surrendering his pride, his self control, and his rational mind to be free to express himself fully and without inhibition. It meant giving up the semblances of control and embracing the wildness inside him wholeheartedly. It meant being utterly and absolutely at his wife's mercy, unable to refuse her anything she wanted, unable to prevent himself from doing whatever she asked him to do. It meant trusting her implicitly, wanting to always follow her every command, craving the feel of her skin against his and the sensation of her hands stroking his body while they kissed and smooched, smooched and kissed, because nothing else could ever satisfy this insatiable urge for her.