John tensed slightly as Tara slid the sharp tips of her teeth through his skin and muscle, tried to pull away, but she held him tightly to her, moaning huskily as his warm blood filled her mouth. If he had truly wanted, he could have broken away from her, even now he was stronger than she was, but as he relaxed into the embrace she knew he wouldn't try. The blood hunger was not upon her, and she didn't have to feed long for the connection to be made, but he tasted so good she couldn't help herself. She drank slowly from him as she wove the illusion in his mind, and she felt herself pulled into the illusion with him, making it more solid, more real than she had intended.
When John felt her teeth pierce his throat, the tiny pain registered and his mind had protested. He started to shove her away, but the moment she began to feed, sucking at his throat, he felt whatever might have been left of the reasoning part of his brain shut down completely and there was only the feeling of her in his arms and the sensations pulsing through his body like electricity. He felt himself hard, and painfully ready, throbbing for her, but he didn't seem to be able to do anything about it. A tiny spark within him balked at the loss of control, but when he closed his eyes, his mind exploded with images that couldn't be real, and yet they felt too good to be anything else.
In his minds' eye he saw her, waiting for him, wanting him, and he went to her. She was everything he had ever wanted and so much more. She pulled him to her, kissing him, writhing beneath his hands as he undressed her. She knew instinctively how he liked to be touched, and where and he realized that she had undressed him. Her long shapely legs wrapped around his waist and drew him into her.
John watched her face contort with pleasure as he entered her. She threw her head back, her long, chestnut hair flowing out over the white sheets. He buried his face in her hair as he stroked slowly in and out of her, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled like flowers he couldn't put a name to, and musky with desire. He wanted to see her face again. Pushing up on his hands, he looked down into her eyes. *Blue* he thought, wondering how he could possibly know that. He remembered, sometimes, what colors were supposed to look like, and he could make out some when his eyes were protected by the dark glasses, but not like this. This was too vivid and he didn't meet her until after the accident that had left him all but blind, removed all color from his world. He had never seen her eyes. *Beautiful,* he thought, and then his mind registered the wrongness of it. "What are you?"
