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Perhaps louder, clearer, than she could have ever expected.

The way she said it, why she said it, it was like a clearing breeze, a heavy gust sweeping through the cluttered mess in my head, and suddenly it was like I could really think again…

And I thought of myself as even more of a complete bumbling fool for making her have to say it.

Because, really, just what was that request she made? To love her like… someone else? That I should be treating her like someone else… as opposed to… what exactly?

Did she think Ash was a frame of standard? That, so long as I wasn’t treating her the same way, then it only stands to reason that I didn’t care for her as much… always second best…

Was that how I made her feel? made her think? If that’s the case, then I really am a complete, bumbling fool…

“Will you…?” She pleaded again, and I felt her hands, the both of them, the incising tips of her claws so gently, so lovingly caressing the back of my hand still pinned against her chest, feeling her coldness, her softness, and the faint yet frenetic beating of her heart. “Can you…?”

Inquiries like that shouldn’t have to be said. She shouldn’t have to ask them.

.....

I won’t let her say it again.

“No, I can’t,” I moved, and to this frail, delicate girl, I let her fall with a push and with a reversal of roles, I had her pinned under me, with both hands cupping each a handful of her ample breasts. “I’m not going to love you like someone else.”

She allowed it. Her body laid out against the powdered concrete, the diluted gray of her long longs bleeding over and across a million bits of rubble – and with all the shifting, stroking – her dress had slipped, her cleavage spilling over the frills of her blouse.

Another firework lit ablaze the world and her – and from right below me, she looked even frailer, meeker, yet all the same the look in her eyes invited only more nefarious thoughts to take over.

“Did you think… I need to see you like someone else for me to want you?” I groped her firmly, squeezing her hard to my heart’s desire. “In case you haven’t noticed, I love you for you, Adalia.”

She barely reacted, if at all. A hunger, that same desire still abundantly present in gaze, but when it came to touch, sensation… my hands ravaging her thoroughly, Adalia hardly flinched.

“I know…” She responded, lifting her hands and I watched her, felt her slowly reach for my face, her claws extended just slightly to the back of my ears. “But you love me too carefully…”

“Is that bad?”

“Too wary, too restrained, you are not able to love me completely. Not like with the others, with Ash…”

“Then I’m sorry I ever made you see it like that,” I lifted a hand away, a lingering tingle in my palms, as I entwined a finger beneath a single strap of her blouse over her thin shoulder, lifting, slipping. “Let me start over again.”

A kiss again, once more for assurance, apology, before I left with a smile.

“Let me show you how I really love you.”

Her dress peeled away surprisingly easily, navy blue silks curling, creasing, and with every inch descending, I saw more of her, the pristine gray of her bare skin, so luscious, heavenly… drenched in the explosive colors streaming fractured through shattered glass panels.

“You are undressing me…” She muttered, making no motions to resist it, instead simply allowing it, a blink, the whirling gray in her gaze wanting it. “Will you make love to me now…?

“Not yet,” I said, racing a hand across her sides, tracing her finely-shaped curves. “I want to explore you just a bit more.”

Another hand, another tug, exposing her bare breasts to the light, the ambiance of the night. I saw them bounce, a luring wobbling sway as the hems of her blouse finally gave way, freeing them.

I paused to take them in, the shape of her areolas, the pigment, a darker gray in contrast, with her nipples perking outwards and plump… almost as if gazing back at me, their very presence a hypnotic spell lulling me closer, whispering silently for me to have a taste.

She was… deceptively well-endowed. The way she always carried herself, dressed herself, I had always assumed otherwise. Even that time when we had bathed together, what little I saw, felt of her… but it seems that I, um… I was very wrong.

No words came to my mind. Just feeling, just desire, I didn’t even spare a moment to gauge her reaction, I dove into her, submerging myself into her bountiful pairs, taking as much as I could into my wanting lips, and fondling, stroking away at what I couldn’t fit.

Cold. Like diving headfirst into a frozen lake, breaking through the ice. That’s what she felt like – every inch of her all over.

Adalia remained as quiet as ever, but sneaking a glance at her expression, I knew she was still as aroused, feverish… yet it felt as if it had reached a peak, never moving, never actively indulging the more I stimulated her.

Live a living doll or something.

With a loud smack, I lifted my puckered mouth away from her breasts, and barely breathing, I leaned for her lips, kissing her again, still fondling her, and only to that she reciprocated, nudging me back almost too eagerly, her hard fangs bashing against my front teeth.

But when I pulled back again, only the same expressionless face stared back at me in a deep shimmering blue.

“Not very expressive, are you?” I said, aiming for her neck pretending as if I had fangs of my own for me to bite and guzzle.

She tilted her head, allowing me more for her to relish. “No, I am not…”

“Can that be changed?” I asked, pinching a nipple, and feeling it stiffen between my fingers. I glanced at her, hoping for something – no dice.

“I do not express pleasure very well…”

“As far as we know, but what if I keep going though?” in a whirl, I lifted myself, ogling her half-naked self from right above. “I want to see you feel good… I want to hear it.”

“Hear it…?”

“Loudly.”

“I do not scream…”

“I think you can,” slowly, I lowered myself back to her chest, now warm by the air of my breath. “You just need to feel good.”

“I do feel good…” She muttered, lips parted, fangs prominently bared.

“Not enough.”

Then I went at it again, drifting my lips, my hands all across her body wherever I could, brimming with her kisses, with tender strokes, the ridges of her collarbone, the flatness of her stomach. I felt my knees creak, my legs shift – parting hers – and my left hand strayed further downward, fingers clamping perfectly onto one of her thighs.

Her skirt lightly brushed the top of my knuckles as I ventured further and further upward – hitching, crumpling – my entire hand reaching deeper, feeling the inner fabrics, the inner warmth, then suddenly, at the tip of my fingers – a startling cold.

Her body immediately stiffened.

This bareness, raw smoothness…

All this time I was with her, all the things we’ve done together, she hasn’t been wearing anything underneath her skirt. Do vampires not bother with undergarments or something?

Without hesitating, I began rubbing my fingers against the cold, soft sensation… a finger up against her narrow slit with slow caressing motions that I gradually strengthened. I could feel her folds following after my momentum – she spread her legs a little more – two fingers now vigorously stroking all the while my lips continue to overwhelm her entire body with light pecks of pleasure.

Adalia still did not look like it, sound like it, but I knew she was enjoying every second of it. A silent bliss sporadically drowned by the gasps and squelches of my mouth. But it wasn’t enough for me, and it definitely wasn’t enough for her.

I descended downwards, the front of my lips grazing across her breasts, the length of her slender waist before brushing against the messy folds of her pleated skirt.

Instantly, I was jerked to a stop – something had seized me tightly around the wrist. I paused, quickly glancing up, only to find Adalia burrowing an intensity with her veiny gaze. And in a blur of movement, I saw her legs close.

“Stop…” She said.

“What?”

“You do not need to do that. You do not need to be down there…” She clarified further, her hand around my own, feebly attempting to pull me back up again. “It is not necessary…”

I didn’t budge an inch. “But I want to.”

“No…”

“Why not?”

Adalia chose not to answer, instead in more feebler attempts, tugged and pulled with even greater insistence.

“Can’t love you properly if you don’t let me,” I told her, resting my head atop her thighs, hiding a smirk behind her skirt. “Fine. Give one reason. One reason why I can’t, and I won’t. Promise.”

Then, there, amidst lust and exhilaration intermixed, the swirl of her eyes heightened, her parted lips tightened – a firework exploded – highlighting, unveiling a sliver of an emotion I’ve never seen.

“It is embarrassing…”

Oh, you sorely messed up there, my dear lovely, clueless, little lady. I said to give me reasons to stop, not to want to keep going even further.

Like hearing that is gonna make me wanna stop…

“Sorry,” I muttered, pulling my hand away from her grip the moment I felt it come loose. “I take it back.”

“Wait…!” a slight swell in her voice echoed, sounding almost like panic. “You promised me…”

“Yeah...” I heaved a breath, prying her legs apart again with both hands. Briefly, I looked back at her, the shadow of shock rippling across her face, and gave an apologetic smile. “I lied.”