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His touch was cold. Shiver inducing.  But not the bad kind.

Pietro dragged his fingertips up her arm, past her shoulder, pausing on her throat.  On the pulse he said he could see.  Feel.  Hear.  

Darcy dropped her head to the side, letting him sweep her hair out of the way and press his nose right up against her skin.  She felt him inhale, his arms snaking around her waist.  

“If you tell me I’m your particular brand of heroin, I will beat your undead ass, Maximoff…”  

He chuckled.  She heard the snap of his fangs.  “No, Princeza. You are not a drug that I hate myself for needing…nor are you a delicacy that I treat myself to once in a great while…”  

“What am I?” she murmured, practically quivering in his arms.  

“A woman.  Who has not yet given me permission to bite her…” His tongue laved a spot on her neck, right over her pulse point.  “Do you want this, Darcy?”  

“I want you…”

“And you have me…” His arms tightened around her.  “That was not the question.  Do you want this?”  

“Yes…" Darcy let her head loll to the side.  

Pietro inhaled sharply, his teeth grazing her flesh as he reluctantly moved down from her pulse point, choosing instead to sink his teeth right where her neck became her shoulder.


She gasped as his teeth broke her skin.  She was delicate, like a peach or a plum.  And juicy as well.

Her blood filled his mouth. Tangy, coppery, perfect .

There would be more if he’d bitten her on a major vein, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her.  He didn’t want to overwhelm himself.  So he’d be content with just a taste. 

Her hands gripped his shoulders and she moaned as he laved his tongue over the bite.  

“Pietro…” she murmured, her breath hot and scorching where it danced over his shoulder.  She was an inferno and he wanted nothing more than to burn up inside her.  

He hummed against her, tongue laving over the bite as she rocked forward, the intimacy of their position wasn’t lost on him.  

Pietro allowed his fingers to trail up from her waist, up to her breasts.  To her nipples, hard and pointed beneath her blouse.  Stiffened peaks he’d like to run his tongue over.  

He swirled his thumb over it instead, feeling the fabric catch and tug.  She whimpered, pressing her chest forward.  “Ohh….god...please…”  

All in good time… he mused to himself, sucking on her neck one last time before breaking the contact.  

He’d heal the wounds before she left him, but for now...for now , he liked looking at them.  Liked the visible evidence of his claim.  

Pietro brushed the hair back from her face, tilting her up so he could look into her eyes.  He watched her pupils dilate in the soft light from the lamp her nightstand, watched her cheeks flush pink in that way that humans had.  

He felt her blood rush through her veins, her pulse steady and strong.  

“Are you alright, Darcy?”  His voice was a little slicker with his fangs down.  He always hated the slight lisp it gave him.  But he never could get used to the intrusion of the fangs in his mouth.  

She nodded. “I’m fine…”  Her hands were on his face, thumb raking over his bottom lip, pulling it down to expose his teeth.  He felt her thumb drag over the left fang, causing a shiver of arousal to course through his body, causing him to lean into her touch.  And if he hadn’t been hard to the point of pain pleasure before, he was now.   

He could feel it between his legs, a pulsing desire that always accompanied a feed such as this.  A feed that wasn’t to satisfy a hunger.  A feed that only served to make him more hungry than before.  

It was heavy.  A weight.  A magnet that drew him towards her.  

And with every touch, he wanted her more.

Reaching up to grab her hand, he pulled it away, pressing a kiss to the back of it.  “Darcy…” he murmured.  

She leaned forward, sucking her thumb into her mouth, licking the smeared remnants of her own blood from her skin.  Tugging on his hand, she pressed it down, down, down.  Beneath her skirt.  Between her legs.  

Where the majority of her blood was concentrating.  Yes, he’d noticed. He could feel the heat growing, feel every pulse of her arousal like it was his own.  

“Touch me...please?”

His fingers dragged over her damp satin panties, fingertips catching on the elastic and drawing them aside.  Baring her to his touch.  

She was slick.  Molten.  So hot she burned his cool skin.  

She whimpered, quaked beneath his touch.  

“I’d like to do more than touch you,” he confessed.  His cock twitched in his pants.  And he moaned just thinking about pressing into her heat.  Her willing body stretching to allow him.  

His fingers, slick with her, rubbed over the tiny bundle of nerves at the juncture of her thighs.    

“Do anything…” she whispered.  “Fucking... please whatever you want…”  

His fangs throbbed.  

Not whatever he wanted.