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Sleeping Beauty

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I had taken the advantage of being an early riser for granted up until now. An hour or so earlier than others of my kin didn’t make much of a difference. The early bird catches the worm they said, true to humans and other creatures but certainly not us – the feast the cities offered could host us all and if any vampire having to pass a night with a grumbling stomach was due to either his lack of wit or lack of appetite, or sometimes both.

Anyway, back to the point. If I hadn’t paid much attention to my biology before I was utterly grateful for it now, as I had woken up with a beauty wrapped in my embrace, still dead-asleep and entirely unaware of the wicked thoughts running amuck in my blond head. I had not forgotten the necessity of the coffin, at least not accidentally. And my fledging had been left in the dark about my ulterior motive. Mind reading wasn’t his gift it seemed. I really had to thank God for it, well, if he cared to listen.

I knew I always had a keen taste for finer things in life and this youngest fledging was by far my most satisfied choice. Delicate yet strong bone structure beneath soft, smooth skin, pleasant to my touch like satin. Lustrous raven locks that slipped through my fingers like water. Elegant eyebrows that furrowed in a perpetual frown. How I yearned to smooth it into oblivion, to run the tips of my fingers all over his skin, taking in every small detail polished to perfection by the flow of my blood in his veins. A sad pity my sweet child had been so ignorant of his gorgeous beauty that he had allowed himself to be wasted in cheap swill and drunken brawls. A crime to all the good things in the world. But not to worry, Lestat had come to the rescue. My best decision since birth it seemed, to have bestowed this Gift of Darkness upon him so that this beauty would never be consumed by merciless time… and preserved eternally for my private pleasure.

I felt a terrifying possessiveness towards this beautiful child already!

With great tenderness that surprised even myself I brought my fingers to my fledgling’s lips, tracing their outline like an artist did his magnum opus. Such impeccability chiseled into such small flesh. Only a little pale and cool though, but soon enough it would regain its rich color and warmth. I would see to that in our rendezvous with Death tonight.

I claimed my ownership on my beautiful one’s lips. No shame, no remorse in this act of thievery. He belonged to me after all, tonight and all the nights that followed. What was better to seal this crimson contract than an actual crimson kiss?

My fangs grazed the supple flesh teasingly, drawing out the first droplet of precious ruby. My first taste of my child after his introduction to darkness and oh so sweet, oh so burning, the temptation beyond my own control, the sole delicacy my kind pursued. More. I wanted more. I thirsted for more.  

I licked and sucked greedily from his lips, coaxing more blood out. If only this tiny flesh could offer me the generous flow like the arteries.

I was swooning with ecstasy when a tinge of pain shot through my muddled mind. So familiar this was, this gentle brush of pain. That’s it, my beloved one. Let your craving instruct your flesh. Throw away all the prim and proper manner of mortal. Take whatever you want and be delighted with your absolute freedom. The world is yours and you’re mine, and mine only.

My blood oozed from the puncture wounds on my lips, and was sucked with a greed mirrored to my own. Like a hungry baby on its mother’s teats. I laughed mentally with the perversion of my analogy and the trueness of it. He was my baby and I his father, his mother and his lover, the cord binding us stronger and tighter than any mortal ones he had had. We were each other’s, we were one. Pride swelled in my chest and I rewarded myself with a bold slide of fangs against his lips. Our blood mingled, our bodies melted in its searing heat, and our unholy matrimony consummated.

I moaned audibly, lamenting the taste of his blood on my tongue when a firm hand pressed against my chest, breaking our passionate union. My Sleeping Beauty was awake now, and fully aware of what we had done, what he had done.

Licking my fangs and lips, I studied his countenance. It seemed all the blood had rushed to his cheeks, painting the vampiric pallor of his skin the color of rose. Lovely, I thought. So lovely and delicious I could devour him whole. But no, I could never. Such barbaric act was beyond my capability.

“Slept well?” I asked, casually brushing back a raven lock falling on his face. He flinched, yet the tight confinement of our coffin didn’t allow him the chance to escape me. I almost laughed out loud. Took great pleasure from his awkwardness. He would soon get used to our intimacy. A week. A month. A year at most. Soon he would long for my loving gestures. I had confidence in my charms. No one could resist the vampire Lestat. Not one I chose to pursue.

“Like dead,” he mumbled, sheepishly.

“I believe it’s time for breakfast. You must be starving already,” I deliberately stressed.

The blush deepened. I couldn’t help my chuckles.

“But first,” I said, softly pinching his hips, “you have to get off me. I’m dying with your body on mine.”

To cause his face to look as if it was about to drip blood was purely evil. Not that I would ever regret it.

“What’re you laughing at?”

He looked up from his novel – his current obsession with fantasy medieval age where mortals fought for an iron chair – and asked.

“Nothing really, mon cher,” I said. “Just recall our first night together. A grievous missing from your book.”

Being the perfect evil I was, I laughed at his blushing face.