[Dracula BBC]Savouring the Sun

A Form of Submission

A Form of Submission

I.

Breathing the cold air in. Curious. Excited. Nervous. Her exquisite scent fills my lungs. I know in that instance that this nun will be my finest meal after a long time. She is such a fine vintage. A rare one indeed. Her blood has this unique taste that I can't seem to pinpoint exactly what flavour is. Initially, I just plan to tear her from limb to limb. Composing a piece from her scream. Break her into pieces so she would not dare to provoke this so-called Beast. She is bold comparing to others who couldn't even look at me in the eye. Her presence commands silence and respect, just like generals I used to fight along with. But somehow, she is different.

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II.

Suddenly, I can sense the link when she stands close to me, confronting me. My blood hums with acknowledgement. She is mine and always will be mine. She is my another lost part. Mine to worship and mine to punish. Her burning blue eyes lock with my dark ones. Full with contempt and disdain. And I want nothing more than to make her submit to me. Make it known to her who is the master here.

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III.

A fresh is cut. Crimson blood drops. Its sweet, metal scent diffuses rapidly. I know my eyes go red. They always go red, uncontrollably, when blood scent attacks me. Her bloody fingers are dancing just above my tongue. My lips shiver a little as I try to taste her. It is compelling. A small space between us is an agony. Freezing air burns. My body reaches out to her, as far as I can without an invitation to get in. She stands before me. Literally before me, yet it is frustrating how I cannot touch her. We are far even though we are this close.

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IV.

And finally, when that deep red drop falls onto my tongue, the connection is forged. One-sided, but still there. I can picture her in darkness. I can see her when I close my eyes. Her flavour is ravishing, and there is nothing I want more but to taste her again. Capture her lips with mine and consume her until she becomes senseless.

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V.

Offering her neck to me to let a girl escape, knowing that she chose death instead of survival, nevertheless, her eyes are still bright and burning with intensity. She pulls her habit down, exposing her bare fresh to me. My eyes go down where the pulse lies and thinks, ah– she will be my finest one. I will make her submit to me and no one else, even her beloved God.

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VI.

She sucks the air in as I sink my fangs into her neck, slowly. Her body trembles and I need to put my arm around her waist to keep her upright. Another hand cradles her skull, tilting her head to give me an access to her blood. A second later after injecting the opiate, she relaxes. Eyes shut close with soft sigh escapes from her parted lips. Somehow in a haze of desires, I feel her running hands over my hair, and it strangely feels calm.

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VII.

The dream is intoxicating in a way, since I cannot seem to pull her mind away from mine. She is different from the reality. Burning just like fire and so full of life. Surrounded by darkness of my shadows, she stands there unperturbed and beckons me. And as she reaches out for me, waiting patiently for me, I just walk to her like a tame wolf returning to its owner.

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VIII.

When she cradles my face, hunger in me lessens. Tranquility gradually seeps into my mind, and I think it may be called peace. I just swallow hard and let her. Let her do her magic that might be a gift from above. The darkness lighten. This abhorred feeling of being starved of air gently fades away. Something inside me crumbles as I lift my hand to caress her cheek. Find her warm and soft and just for me.

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IX.

I can feel that electrified connection between our touches, again. Like how her fingertips cause goosebumps in their wake everywhere they go. Like how her body sags into my embrace, leaning close to absorb that precious warmth between us. Lock them in our ignition. Daring the coldness and shadows to steal it away. This thing between us is too ethereal to be true and she knows it as well.

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X.

Her name on my lips is a blessing, while my name on her tongue is a curse. I can tell how torn she is, hooked between pushing me away or letting me hold her. Another side of her that belongs to God might oppose this act of love, but her own soul does not, that much I'm sure.

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XI.

How I like her body nestling with mine. She is so delicate that I want to cherish, but in the same time, she is too precious that I can't help feeling possessive and want to keep her mine forever. I want to devour her whole. I want her by my side. And these thoughts are what strangle me. At the moment our eyes locked. In that instance when I drank her blood and made her dream, I have been owned since.

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XII.

The Beast has been tamed. Not chained. This woman subjugates me in every way possible. That urge to crush her, make her submit to me, is all gone. Stands before her is just a cursed man. A lonely one who was damned to live forever in eternal anguish. An abandoned one who could not die and leave this Earth. The devil who has to hide away from the sunlight. A 500-year-old Warlord who can dominate everyone but her. A submission is formed. And from now on, she is my Queen.

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-fin.