𝙏𝙊𝙓𝙄𝙉 | 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙊'𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖

12| 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐫 (🔞)

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🔞 Content warnings 🔞
Smut ahead

•) Vampire venom as an aphrodisiac
•) Miguel's venom as a narcotic aphrodisiac
•) Feral/inebriated state so kinda dubious consent (You and Miguel)
•) Nudity
•) Oral sex (fellatio)
•) Explicit sexual intercourse

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𝘋𝘢𝘺 3

The sight of Miguel splayed on your sheets feels like something you'd only see on a canvas framed in a prestigious galleria- a vision woven from oil paints and turpentine, born in the mind of a Renaissance master as he brooded over the tobacco vapours rising from his pipe. You could almost see the curators guiding the tourists and art students crowding around the piece of artwork, explaining to them its origins, its composition, its use of colour, and mostly, the subject.

You wonder if they would hold long discourses about Miguel's eyes. About the hues of carmine the master might have used to paint them. About how the expressions they held shifted with the gaze and the position of the observer.

Eyes were the window to the soul- the more you peer into his crimson-stained ones, you more could you see the shadows of the demons plaguing him. For the time being, however, you could see a gentle light filtering out instead from a dusty, untended hearth having been fed firewood and a spark perhaps. And you were glad to have glimpsed that, glad to have lit the flame.

No one deserved to stay in the dark for too long. The human mind could be a cruel prison if it wanted to be one.

The white sheets underneath you are thrown into clumps and folds resembling a shifting desertscape, torn at places from Miguel's talons and your euphoric throes, its white fabric stained dark bearing the marks of your passionate games.

Miguel lies propped up on the pillows, his muscular chest heaving as he pants, one hand gripping the headboard and the other clutching your hair, his fingerpads digging into your scalp. He throws his head back, groaning and whining for you, his hair plastered against his forehead with the sweat, thick brows knotting together as the nerves on his glans respond to your warm tongue. His knees bow, and his thighs rise and fall with each stroke. A drop of sweat trickles down his bobbing Adam's apple, his mouth wide open gaping for air. You've been edging him for a while now, having him beg for release.

"Hah....hah..." He gulps down air.

You lick a stripe along the underside of his length, your hand slowly stroking Miguel's erect cock and his heavy balls, feeling the warmth of the muscles in your palms, letting it glide back and forth in your grip. You lick his flushed cock head, circling the area around his spasming hole a few times, licking the salty precum oozing out. The clear, warm fluid from his tip leaks onto your fingers and knuckles, coating them. Each moan from his lips bears your name, enunciating it in a way that makes it feel like a powerful incantation in itself. His fangs sink into his lower lips as his eyes shut tightly, tinting the bright pink with a dash of his crimson blood. He looks wrecked as you suck him off, slowly at first and going faster as he whines.

"Hahhh...." you hear him moan breathlessly. "That's so good, just like that. Just like that mhmmm, ahhh por favor yes.....yess....oh yes...you're gonna make me come, you're gonna make me come."