Vice

Vice

Warnings: Mature Themes, Sexual Situations, Death, Drug and alcohol abuse

Author’s Note: The story written here is not intended for all to read. It is very mature in content as it deserves to be told, and there are several reasons why immature eyes should not come upon the content.

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There’s a certain charm in letting everything go, losing control to your vices that make you feel oh-so-sensual. You’re invincible, you’re vulnerable, and that can either be arousing or scary depending on who you’re with. And now you’re with me, and I’m the one to take care of you, to love you, to make you feel secure. You understand that, even if you’re not as straight-thinking as you usually are.

I can’t even begin to describe how beautiful you look with your skin flushed, your dilated pupils looking at me, the way your fingers move shakily to reignite the flame on your joint. I lean in and help, because these vices that you have do pleasure you, after all, and your life is short and damned, compared to mine. You laugh to yourself in pleasure and haziness when I kiss over your neck and your breast, and your fingers find purchase in my blond hair and you gasped when I began to suckle and kiss at just the right places, and that was just nearly too delicious. I do it over and over again, then you sighed in pleasure, such beautiful sounds I could never bore of. Music to my ears.

It’s a dirty little motel we’re in, the strangeness of how we ended up here, in a foreign place so impersonal when I’ve always brought you to my home where I could fully take care of you. You always told me you didn’t need me or anyone else doing that, babysitting as you so scathingly put it, but your eyes are screaming for someone to look at you. Regard you lovingly, tell you all’s not lost, because you’re still beautiful and young. And every human is with fault, little darling.

“Please give me what I want… I don’t have much longer,” you’ve whispered to me around just an hour before this, and that seemed a long, long time ago, but it wasn’t.

I remembered the inebriated state I found you in, slurring incoherent words I could hardly understand. Then I followed you here, out of pity, out of love, out of a human notion to help because I could, and no one else would. I carried you to bed and pushed the hair away from your eyes. Your body was much too hot to be normal, so I kept on soothing you with gentle touches till you calmed down and relaxed visibly against me. There were lots of empty or half-empty liquor bottles around us, burnt out joints, messed up lines of crack and I know what you’ve been up to. I can’t summon the courage to berate you again.

Then you pulled me down, and I wondered how you managed to do this in your state and began to kiss me like you were hungry, and I let you. Dirty old fool as I am, and I returned your kiss. You’re making me feel guilty again. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look like this? Have you ever done this with someone else while you were as vulnerable? You don’t trust anyone other than me, do you? It’s a miracle how you managed to realise who I was through your hazy state, and your movements are getting rather overzealous, I know how horny you feel, but I quickly managed to steer you back into submission. Like you’re meant to be, when you’re with me. You understand, don’t you?

I have obvious clues as to what drugs you took to render you to this state. You’re almost helpless, with your clumsy arms and slurry speech, like you’re moving in and out of focus. I know you can’t think straight, because I can hear it. It nearly pains me, but I stifle it, and I slowly and gently kiss and touch you, undress you from your clothes that separated us, and I just wanted to see your naked flush skin and beautiful sensual curves. Gods, just to see this, for the last time, because I knew why you got this intoxicated, this drugged and then there was no turning back. I know you can’t treasure yourself anymore, and if I told you not to destroy yourself, you’d just be even more lost. This is the only way out for you, so I understand.

You wanted this death wish, so I gave it to you. You know what I am, who I am. You’d rather trust me to give you death than anyone else, and that’s what attracted me to you. To you, I’m just an angel of death, the chain that links you from the desolateness of what your life is, and to death, and I bring you this pleasure too… that’s a bonus. You’ve fallen in love with me, and I just barely prevent myself from falling for you, too, because that’s rather dangerous. Love can be lethal, and what we’re doing right now isn’t quite love, just shared, sensual pleasure. And I think you’ve deserved enough in your life. Nothing else we can say about that.

I kiss and touch you in places no one ever has, and your drugged-down state lets me to. You’re usually shy when I do this, but you’re just too wanton right now, and you know now’s one of the last times you can do this with me. Perhaps this will be the last, but I don’t know, and I don’t want to turn you into what I am. I can’t, you have to understand that. If you’re this self-destructive when you’re human, God knows what you’d do when you’re a vampire like me. Better to nip the problem in the bud before it gets worse, and I know you can’t change anyway.

You hate yourself and the world to an extreme, and we all know how difficult that is to deal with. I understand where you’re coming from, because your life hasn’t been so easy either. I can’t take it sometimes, but I bear with it, because this is one of the only times I can be with you, and you’re just pliant in this state, you just take what I give, even when my mouth works sensually, intrusively, with my tongue moving in places that make you flush and embarrassed and become even more hotter than you are now. And right now, I just can’t stop thinking of the myriad of possibilities if actually turn you into what I am, how entertaining that would be for me, but how troublesome too. I’d hate to see what you do, because you have no restraint. You’re sensual and you’re beautiful, just the right mix of what I want, maybe just too much, and that could be the death of me, you realise?

I quieten down the little voice in my head and my tongue lapped at your secret places, fingers moved over hot wet heat and hitched your legs up over my shoulders so you were fully exposed in front of me, just a beautiful wanton picture you made. And you were hardly resisting, and every part of me was stirring, awakened, with our combined lust and want. Let me look at you just a little bit longer.

You started to squirm underneath me like you were impatient for me to move. Please, I hear you say, beg for me a little bit more, so sweetly, so perfect… and I just couldn’t help myself. If only you could see yourself right now, in your last moments, how perfect you look, enthralling and enticing; you’d blush at the picture you made. I tease you a little bit more with my fingers, then forced them past your lips so you could taste yourself. See the erotic motion of your tongue licking at my fingers, like you had nothing to lose. Like you were that hungry for me. Can’t you be patient, little darling?

I stroked your slender little thighs, spread wide open, cupped your taut creamy bottom, and pushed past your tender lips, heard you gasp from the large intrusion and fill you up. Then your moan, like you were fulfilled, satisfied, but wanted more still, so I gave it all to you as you wished.

I began slow, sensuous, torturous movements in you till you were so wanton and impatient for more, the sensation of being filled like this having sobered you up. Good, you’re feeling this, aren’t you? You’re feeling me inside you. Just like that, and I heard a sobbing moan coming from you, how much you want more, your tone full of regret, lust and want, and I had to give it to you. It was my promise to you, and I’m obliged to fulfill it.

Nothing will ever come as close to what we’re having now. This lovemaking, it’s just completeness, fulfillment and gratification no one else can give you, except for me. You’ve admitted it to me before indirectly. Then I was moving harder, faster into you, and you’re just taking it, sobbing from the pleasure and your mouth open with ragged breaths and pants, and you’re touching yourself from how good you’re feeling. Good, that’s so good, you’re finally being open enough to show me how pleasured you are with me. And for the last time too… I’ll definitely miss you.

Then I heard your breath hitch like your end was near, and your movements revealed you wanted me to drive you insane, and I continued to deep motions that hit the sweet spot that maddened you even more till you reached your climax, shuddering and moaning underneath me, pleasure fulfilled at last.

This act of sex, or lovemaking as you would call it, is one of the last gratifying things you told me you’d like to do before you died. And now that you are, I’m feeling rather subdued, and I don’t really know what to say despite the million things running through my mind. Like all good moments, you just can’t find the right way to encapsulate your emotions into plausible words, so you just panted and caught your breath, wrap your arms around me and kiss me again, while you still could.

I love you for it, how romantic your notions are. It’s hardly believable right now how our months and months of addiction to each other led to this, all because you’ve sought out for me, for this purpose. I know you never meant for me to fall in love with you, but I have, and I have to meet the end of our agreement and help you to your death. Do you know how cruel you are? You were beautiful, beguiling and young when I first met you, with skin fresh and dewy and honey eyes and long tresses of dark hair that was just so soft to the touch. And now you’re just barely a husk of what you were before, physically marred but still so beautiful. Who else can ever see you like this?

You pulled away from me to take another fresh joint, lit it yourself with your shaky hands and took a long, long drag, as though you were meant to suck it all into your lungs. How sensual the smoke looked as it wisped out of your mouth, and you gave me a final, tired smile, thanking me, and yes, you are indeed cruel. If you really loved me you wouldn’t have done this, gotten your body so destroyed, this dangerously close to death. You would have fought the little monsters in your head and got right off the drugs that claimed your body, but this was your vice and it seemed I wasn’t quite enough for you to overcome it.

I settled you down on the bed when you were done, and properly clothed you back again as lovingly as I’ve did before. You smile, closing your eyes, murmur how tired you were, how much you loved me, how much you felt this was your last moment and how good it all felt. All I remembered from my own mortal death was pain, and I was glad you felt the opposite of it in yours. Your frantic heartbeat as I felt it when we made love was gradually dying, but your face was peaceful, so I didn’t mind. I’ve fulfilled my part of our agreement.

I think we’ll see each other again, in the next afterlife, little darling, whenever that might be for me.

Till then, I love you, I’ll wait till I can hold you in my arms again.