Feed Me

"You've got fangs, Wes!"

"No! What are you talking about? No. I don't."

"You do. You've got, like, actual pointy fangs. I'm looking right at them."

He frowned and then flicked his tongue around his teeth as if to check, which, if you ask me, is not really what someone with normal teeth ever has to do. Then he sighed and lay back on my couch, using his arm to cover his face.

"Okay," he said. "Fine. We're going to do this, are we? Sure. Can you maybe sit down, Marn? This is probably going to take a minute..."

* * *

Wes and I met freshman year. He set off the fire alarm in our dorm trying to make a grilled cheese with an iron ("I essentially invented the panini press, Marn," he still insists). Ever since then, he's been my go-to plus-one for a whole bunch of family weddings, he's helped me move apartments five times and he's the One whenever my car makes that god-awful noise.

Wes is my best friend, basically. I've seen him cry at a dog food commercial and he's picked corn out of my hair after something that will forever be known as The Incident.

The thing is, though, for most of the time I've known him he's also been, well, an utter slut. And that's always bothered me a little more than, best-friends-wise, it probably had any right to. Basically, over the years, Wes would rail the life out of a different girl most weekends, and I'd have to watch as they all went home looking utterly delighted with themselves, if a bit pale.

But then, about three years ago, he just stopped cold turkey. No more dates and he even came off all the apps.

"Is this a yoga thing?" I remember asking him once.

"Sure," he said. "That's exactly what it is. Yoga."

Over the summer, he'd started to look particularly awful. He got all thin, then went gray, and his hands even went properly cold. "It's just an iron deficiency thing, Marn," he kept telling me whenever I brought it up. "I'll eat a steak and that'll make everything okay."

Which, it turns out, was even technically true...

Things came to a head though when, halfway through our annual scary-movie night, he'd stood up to grab some more popcorn and then passed right out on my rug. I'd dragged him onto the couch and slapped his face a bit to wake him up, but then his lip had pulled back, and... well, there they were.

"You're a vampire?" I said, when he'd finished explaining.

"Yep."

"Like... a real one?"

"No, Marnie, a fake one. This is all just an elaborate joke. Obviously I'm a real one."

"But since when?"

"Since about 1840. I'm far older than I look. Thank goodness for quality moisturizer."

"But... that makes no sense. We were freshmen together!"

"I've been a freshman six times, Marn. We age impossibly slowly. Why do you think I still get carded?"

I sat down on the coffee table. "Okay. Let's put the whole 'what the fuck' to one side for a moment. If that's true, why is my best vampire friend now passing out on my rug?"

Wes looked at me and I saw that his eyes'd gone a sort of dull red around the edges, which, honestly, I probably should've noticed before.

"Because I haven't been feeding," he explained. "Not properly. Not for three years."

"Wes! Why not?"

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before looking back at me. "Because there's only one person I want to drink from. And I'm not doing that to her."

I blinked. "What? Who?"

"You, Marn."

So, that was a bit of a headfuck. We sat in quiet for a moment while I tried to pull everything into an order that made sense. "You want to drink... from me?"

"I do."

"So... why haven't you asked? Why go hungry for three years?"

"It's not just a nip and a cookie, Marn! When I drink from someone, they properly feel it. Everything I feel, they feel, both ways! And once I've had a taste of them, it doesn't switch off for the rest of the night. And it feels better than anything else ever will. Like, ever." He rubbed his face with the back of a gray hand. "Look, every human I've ever fed from just kept coming back for more. Over and over again. They can't really help it. After we've fucked and fed, vanilla just doesn't do it for them anymore. I wasn't going to do that to you. I'd rather..." He waved at himself.

"Starve to death?"

"I was going to say 'take a little nap on your rug'. But sure, be all melodramatic if you want to."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Wes, just to check, are you saying that you've been in love with me for three years?"

"It's actually been more like eight. I just took some time to admit it to myself."

Eight years of karaoke bars, book clubs and him helping me carry couches up stairs...

"And you've been starving yourself to death of late because you thought I'd get, what, addicted to you?"

"Well, if you say it in that tone of voice then of course it'll sound stupid."

"That's because it is stupid, Wes!"

I knelt down by the couch next to his head. His skin was so pale I could see a blue vein ticking in his temple. It looked to me like his heart was beating slowly. Much too slowly.

"Okay. So here's what's going to happen," I said. "This stupid diet is going to end now. You're going to drink, Wes. You're going to drink from me, right now."

"Marnie, no! You don't understand..."

"Okay. So how about a kiss, then. If it turns out it's that dangerous, then we'll stop after one kiss. How does that sound?"

Wes opened his mouth to say no. Then he shut it again. "Fine. Just one kiss. We can do one taste, if you're going to be like this. But then you call me a cab and I go home."

Then I kissed my best friend.

Wes's mouth was cold, so it felt like kissing someone who'd just come in from the snow. And then his fangs pressed against my bottom lip. I pushed into the kiss until one of them broke through the surface of my skin a tiny bit. Wes groaned and then his hand was in my hair and he was sucking on my lip. And, just like he'd said I would, I could suddenly feel what he felt. That tiny bead of red on his tongue was, quite literally, the best thing he'd tasted in three years, and the sensation went straight between my legs.

I actually moaned into his mouth.

When he pulled back there was color in his cheeks for the first time since July, and his eyes had now gone a violently deep red.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, Marn. Okay. That's... no. We need to stop."

"Why? Didn't it help?"

"No, it did. A little, yeah. But a kiss is like a cracker. It's not a proper meal."

"Then let's eat up," I said, and I took his insanely cold hand and put it on my breast, over my sweater, and held it there. "But you have to say this is what you want, Wes. Tell me you actually want to, or I'll be stopping right now."

He looked up at me with those red eyes.

"I really want to," he said, very quietly. "I've wanted you since your twenty-second birthday. But..."

I pulled my sweater off over my head, lost my bra, and pressed my nipple into his mouth. His tongue was so cold my nipple went rock hard, and when he sucked I could feel it twice. Once in my breast, and then once from his side, too. I was aware of how very warm I was in his mouth.

"That's... insane," I said. "Wes, that's... so fucking hot!"

"I know," he murmured against my skin. "It almost makes never getting to eat anything with garlic in it worthwhile."

His hands had warmed up a bit by the time he'd pulled me up onto the couch and got my jeans open. He pulled them down with my panties and I kicked them off somewhere toward the TV. The movie we'd been watching was still playing, showing a girl getting chased around a lake by a man with a hook.

Then he slid off the couch onto his knees, pushed my thighs open and kissed the inside of my knee. Then a bit higher. Then higher again. And when he got to the top of my thigh, right in the crease where it meets my pussy, he stopped, and I felt his fangs rest against my skin there.

"Here," he said. "If I take it from anywhere, I want it from here. Is that okay?"

"Fuck, yes! Wes, yes, God, do it!"

"No. Not yet," he said, and then he licked my pussy instead.

His tongue was ice cold and I'd never experienced anything like it before. Wes licked right up the center of me, agonizingly slowly, before circling my clit with the tip of it. Every time he moved, I felt the cold of his tongue and then the heat of me on his tongue coming back through him. I had to grab the couch cushion with both hands to try not to cram my pussy into his mouth.

"Keep still," he said against me. "I want to taste all of you."

I was so insanely wet by then I could feel it running down onto the cushion. He caught some on a cold fingertip while he licked, and I couldn't help but push down onto it. He let me impale myself to the knuckle, holding the finger there, deep and not moving, until I was rocking against his hand to get him to fucking do something! Then he curled it up against my front wall and began to slowly stroke while his freezing lips sucked my clit.

"Fuck, Wes! How long have you been able to do that?"

He lifted his head long enough to say, "Since before the Civil War," and went back down to eating me out.

I was right on the edge of coming when he suddenly turned his head and bit me.

I gasped in pain. It stung for half a second, right in the crease of my thigh, and then all that sharpness turned into him drinking me. He was taking long slow pulls, and every one of them felt like he was sucking straight out of my clit. I could feel the heat of my blood filling his mouth, and it was so good for him that it was impossibly good for me too.

I came so hard my back came off the couch, with his finger still inside me and my thighs locked around his head, screaming in pleasure and pain. And he kept drinking from me right through it.

"Stop, Wes!" I finally had to hiss. "I need a moment!"

He let go the second I said it, and licked the cut shut. Then, when he lifted his head to look at me, his mouth was bright red and his face was flushed pink. And his eyes were glowing. Actually glowing.

"Marnie," he said. He sounded drunk. "Marnie, I think I could lift a car."

"I don't want you to lift a car, Wes! I want you to fuck me."

He went very still. "If I'm inside you when I drink, it's going to be a lot more intense. For both of us. And... look, I might not want to stop."

"You'll stop if I ask you to. Just like you did now." I put my foot on his chest. "But, Wes? I don't think I'm going to be asking you to stop."

Wes stood up and pulled his shirt off. He was thin still, but there was color spreading down his chest now, and his skin had gone from cold to merely cool. Then he took his jeans off, and... well. Look, I'd heard things from the girls staggering out of his dorm room in college, but they'd massively undersold it. He was long and thick, and his skin was so pale I could see the veins.

I sat up and immediately took his cock in my hand, and he hissed. He was cool to the touch as I licked a stripe up the underside of him and then took the head into my mouth.

"Mmm. Salty," I hummed against him.

"Marn. If you keep doing that I'm going to come down your throat, and I want to come in your pussy."

"Okay! Okay, I'm stopping!" Mostly because I wanted that too.

Wes knelt on the couch, pushed my knees up and apart, and leaned over me with one hand on the arm by my head. "Look at me!"

I looked up at him, right into those wonderfully glowing eyes. He still didn't push into me, though. First, he laid the whole length of himself along my pussy and slid it up and down without going in, until I was squirming under him.

"Wes! What the fuck!"

"It's been eight years!" he said. "I think you can wait thirty seconds."

Then he notched himself at my opening and thrust into me.

He was so big that I felt myself stretch, and we both gasped as he sank into me. He inched in slowly, a little more with every breath I took, until he was all the way in, and so deep that I could feel him right up at the top of me. By then he wasn't cool anymore...

"Oh my god, Wes! I'm full!"

And then he started to move, making long, slow strokes at first, pulling nearly all the way out and then pushing back in, so I got the drag of him along every inch of me.

"Harder," I said. "Harder, Wes. I can feel you want to pound me!"

In response, he got a hand under my ass and lifted my hips so that he could fuck me harder and deeper, the couch thumping the wall and my neighbor's dog going off on the other side of it. Every thrust ground right against my clit, but I still couldn't get there, not without his mouth on me. And that was clearly how he felt too.

"I want you to bite me," I said. "My neck. While you're in me. Do it, Wes!"

"Marn..."

"I want to feel your teeth in me! But I want to be on top of you when you do."

In response, he wrapped both arms around me and then sat back on the couch, pulling me up with him without ever coming out of me. Then I was straddling his lap with him still deep in me. My weight forced him even higher.

"Ride me, then," Wes said.

I ground down on him, my clit rubbing against the base of his cock. We were both soaking wet with my juices now.

Slowly, he moved forward to rest his lips on my neck, right under my ear. He held them there while I rocked on him, with the very tips of his fangs resting on my skin.

Then he bit.

It was like coming, except that moment of coming didn't stop.

Every pull of my blood into his mouth went down through my whole body and exploded through my pussy. I could feel him drinking me and fucking me at the same time. And I could also sense how close he was getting to releasing inside me. I thought the room was going a little gray at the edges.

"Marn?" he said against my neck. "Marn, you need to tell me to stop!"

"I'm fine! Don't you dare stop! Fuck me! Feed on me!" I locked my arms around his head and held his mouth there.

"But I'm going to..." he said.

"I know! I can feel it! Do it!"

He came still sucking on the wound in my neck. I felt his cock swell and then explode inside me, and the heat of it, real heat now, my heat, spread throughout my belly. At the same time I felt what it was like for him, coming inside me after eight years of wanting to, which made me come again, clenching around him while he was still pumping and spurting away into me. That sensation went straight back to him, which made him come even harder.

"Holy shit!" I said, when I could finally talk. This was quite some time later. "I mean, holy shit, Wes!"

He let go of my neck and licked the bite closed, getting the last little trickle that had run down toward my collarbone. When he was done, I sagged against his chest in a sweaty heap, both of us shaking. When he eventually lifted me off him, I felt his cum run out of me and down his thigh to soak into my couch.

"Those cushions are never going to recover," I said.

"Are you okay?" he said into my hair. "Marn? Did I take too much?"

"Okay? I'm great," I said. "And you're warm, Wes. You're actually warm!"

"That's you," he said.

* * *

So, that's my story.

Wes is fine now, by the way. His color's back, he's put on about twenty pounds, and he says I'm the best cook he's ever known.

Also, I've started wearing a lot of very cute scarves.