Her chest fell silent, and the throbbing of her veins remained static, yet every nerve was on fire. Charlotte feared her skin would blister should the pain not subside. The weight of her body pressing into the bed was excruciating. Caleb’s arms as lead weights holding her down. She bolted upright, a second to gather her strength and ran to the iron gate. Caleb, in a soothing tone, called to her; the noise permeated around the room, and her hands gripped her head. Why wouldn’t the pain stop? Her eyes squinted against the flickering candles. She clung to the iron bars, their firm grounding position aided Charlotte’s senses. They trembled in her grip but would not budge. She scratched at the walls, pounded her fists, eyes darted, and hissed at Caleb.
Her eyes fell on the empty pouch in his hand; the rusty aroma overwhelmed her senses. With a change in demeanour, Charlotte focused her attention on him. A sharp throbbing developed in her mouth as sharp teeth punctured. She did not attempt to wipe the blood or show concern. Two teeth fell from her mouth: in their place, bloodied fangs. Charlotte ran her tongue across them. Her movements were deliberate and sluggish, and her stomach squeezed. Hissing, Charlotte lunged for Caleb. He side-stepped her attack, a swift motion behind her. Caleb slit his wrist, filled with fresh plasma; Charlotte clutched it, drinking deep.
When she cut her finger, Charlotte tasted her blood for the first time. Instinct took control as she sucked the wound. The metallic taste made her recoil. The same taste energised her. The liquid swirled in her mouth soothed her throat, and her eyes widened and closed. The stomach squeezed, without a heartbeat this pumped blood. It permeated through her cells, a river flowing through her veins, her skin tingled. Caleb squirmed, ripping his arm from her grasp. Charlotte spun, smiling, her tongue caught in her teeth at one side. Her hand moved swiftly, precisely to his chin, lifting him up. With a flick of her wrist, Caleb flew across the room, landing on the bed. Crawling, Charlotte inhaled his scent, fingers gripped the quilt. There was a musty, three-day clothing aroma, one she recognised in herself. She tugged his clothes, getting beneath his shirt, the scent was faint but desirable.
Juniper, Thyme, a hint of peppermint and the ocean. Charlotte licked her lips remembering the initial salty taste of his skin. The sweat of days, shivering, a restless wait for his system to process her blood. Locking them in this basement was for the good of humanity. Caleb knew the immediate taste of fresh hot blood would drive her wild, control her for eternity. If he breathed, Caleb would have held it, watching her. Hands explored his exposed chest, and hunger of a different kind raged in her eyes. She shuffled upright, straddling him, wriggling her body against his firm interest.
Charlotte stopped; she turned her head, listening. Caleb was too slow to grab her, watching her cling to the iron gates. There were footsteps on the gravel, distant voices, she strained to hear. Vlad employed gardeners; humans who tended to the park their homes overlooked. She rattled the gates, frustrated, and confused. How with her renewed strength were they still unyielding?
Feasting on blood was the least of Caleb’s concerns, if Charlotte figured out how to open the gates, how would he stop her from rushing into the sun? His eyes were sunken, fatigued and his first meal in days shared with the newborn lover. He had neither energy nor strength to hold her back.
Poses for Charlotte in Picture one https://www.patreon.com/posts/not-feeling-good-55829464
Pose for Caleb in Picture one https://www.patreon.com/posts/let-me-show-you-55243855
Picture 2 https://www.patreon.com/posts/answer-me-62973724
By the Grace of Sim Gods 