Wraithlike, Whiskey waits
at the threshold of sleep,
desire and hunger knotted tight.
His mouth finds Kirin's throat.
Teeth sting, tearing flesh.
Blood spills, thick and hot;
Kirin's pulse surges.
Kirin resists, claws, twists.
Nerves raw with fear,
his will flares, defiant.
Whiskey's grip is merciless.
Hands sear across ribs, hips, thighs.
Every touch a brand,
every mark a claim.
He enters, driving deep,
inexorable and slow,
breaking all resistance.
Kirin arches, writhes, burns.
Pitiless eyes bend his will,
pulling him deeper.
Foreheads press;
sweat and blood mingle.
Their world shrinks
to heat, to thirst, to rhythm.
Whiskey moves, ruthless,
feral, siphoning breath and vitality,
stripping Kirin bare
until only submission remains.
Kirin is unraveled, wrecked,
drawn into something ancient, wilder,
a hunger beyond flesh,
a ruinous fire promising ecstasy.
Whiskey feeds.
Kirin succumbs.
The night stretches infinite,
their bodies bound
in shadow and blood.
Author's Note: Dear Reader, Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. If you liked this piece, you may be interested in my newest short, titled, "Under the Eyes of Two Masters." Check it out!
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The Binding
PoetryA vampire moves with a hunter's precision, taking what he wants without mercy, fast and confident, dragging you into him. Resistance is futile. It's intense, rough, and all-consuming, and once you surrender, there's no escaping- not that you'd want...
