Let me put on my face (the morning after) - Dima's Appartment

His hands lifted her at the waist lowering her so that she straddled him in the chair. Her knees pressing down on either side of his lap his hands trace up her sides skimming the sides of her breasts. Rachel's stolen shirt rides up her thighs exposed, as Dima's massive hands wrap up and around her back. Lips pressed against her neck, they part and his fangs sink into her flesh. Sweet warm blood poured into his mouth, causing Dima to moan. Fingers twisting into her hair, as he held her close and drank slowly.

The gasp that came from her was one of pure pleasure and Rachel grinds her hips into Dima's denim covers lap, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulder and clutching at him tightly. Her fingers drift though his hair, nipples pert and errect against his chest "Oh my god" she breaths out, having never experienced the full force of the kiss before. She grows a touch cooler as he continues drinking slowly from her supple neck and she reaches between them to grip his manhood through his pants, desperately trying, and failing to work the zipper. "Yes Dima..." she moans out, still doing her best to work at the closing on his jeans.

His hand brushed hers away from the zipper of his jeans. His hand in her hair pressed her lips to, his neck. His actions clearly staring that he didn't want her hand on his cock, he wanted her fangs in his neck. Her moaned, not wanting to to have to remove his fangs from her throat. His hips rolled against hers. A low growl escaped his lips around his fangs in her flesh.

Rachel offers no resistance for anything Dima does, leaning in almost joyously, pressing her soft, full lips to the throbbing vein running along his powerful neck. She moans against the flesh as another wave of pleasure washes through her body and with her eyes closed shut, drifting languidly through the overwhelming sensations and emotions flowing through her , she gently sinks her teeth into his flesh, keeping the connection between them. The taste of the blood hits her, heightening the experience as she drinks slowly, but deeply of the rugged man. She groans against his flesh, losing herself in the flavor of his rich, intoxicating blood.

They slowly drank from one another, his blood going into her body, her blood flowing into his, until it ceased so much to be his or hers, and became theirs. His hands roamed her flesh there wasn't enough flesh to touch, and his hands ripped his shirt from her body. Buttons flew across the room, and he pushed the shirt from her shoulders. Hands caressed her flesh cupping her breast, fingers tweaking and flicking over her nipple.

Her body writhes against his as the blood flowing between them heightens and increases the sensations coursing through her veins, searing her soul with the very essence of him. It was so very rich, so very powerful that she was beginning to feel slightly drunk and as the shirt is ripped from her body, she allows her hands to drop into his lap again, this time working the fly of his jeans open with exacting precision. She knew what she wanted, and this time, she wouldn't be stymied, hauling out his thick length and running the tip back and forth between her silken folds. She took his blood as slowly as he took hers, luxuriating in the overwhelming sensations.

He pulled her onto him in one swift motion lifting his hips into her with enough strength to lift them both up slightly from the chair that they were seated in. His cock was rock hard as it slid within her slick wet heat. He moaned at the forbidden pleasure of it all. The generous giving and taking. His thick cock thrust deeply with in her twitched violently. Lifting her and himself both from the chair and lowering them both to the floor, covering her with his body as he gently lowered her, cradling her to him. As they continued to drink, he slowly pistoned into and out of her.

She moans against his neck as he enters her, lifting with him smoothly while keeping her mouth firmly connected to the wound, drawing on the thick vitae slowly. She squeezes her lips around the thick shaft, shivering as she feels him bury himself within her. As he rises, Rachel wraps her legs around his waist and once on the ground, lifts her hips to allow him easier access. She was always a petite woman, but next to the giant, she practically disappears beneath his body, her fingenail scratching long grooves into his back as she continues taking his blood in as her own.

He growled possesivly, this act of claiming so very animalistic in nature. The act it self marking her as his. Each thrust said you are mine, each with draw said that he would never be done with her. Even if eventually the pleasure would crest, in that moment his attention said I will touch your inner most places, forever. Only I will ever hold you like this touch you like you will break while rocking into your body with enough force to shatter your world.

Her thighs tighten as the possessiveness of the coupling, both emotionally and physically become the only thing in the world to her, everything else around them disappearing from her sight. She was his, mind body and soul, and she knew it at that moment in such exacting wonderful detail. The way he spoke to her, claiming every part of her mind, the feel of his manhood driving into her and the touch of his skin against hers, claiming every part of her body, his blood coursing down her throat, claiming every part of her soul. Tears begin streaming down her face as the full depth of his emotions towards her become understood and in response, she threw herself into him with joyous abandon, rocking her hips against his, claiming him just as strongly as he was claiming her. To her, it became difficult knowing when she ended, and he began, and frankly, she just didn't care. She felt complete.

A deep moan proceeded his orgasm, like a wave hitting the shore. It rose up rumbling from deep with in him, and his body crested against hers as he thrust into her once more hips rolling, into her forcefully. Where he collapsed upon her. Holding her as he lay his head against the side of her cheek. His fangs slipped from her flesh, and he tenderly licked the wound closed, rolling them so that she lay curled atop of him, still impaled on his flesh. His hands held her caressed her, but he was spent.

Letting out a pleasure driven gasp as he peaks, his own rumbling voice acting as a catalyst for her own climax, Rachel shudders violently, clutching him tightly against his body. She holds him there for a time, potence strong arms supporting his vastly heavier weight with little effort. She runs her legs down his muscular thighs as he rolls over with the sudden change in position, wiggling her hips against him as she readjusts with her mouth still at the small gash along his neck. Finally, with some reluctance, she withdraws her fangs from his neck and simply lays there for a time. No words need be spoken, as everything that had to say had just been said and she lets out a peaceful, soft sight, her breath running over his skin like a gentle kiss of wind.

He brushed a kiss against the top of her head. "Marucs.." he said softly after a few minutes of silence. His arms held her close, body seemed utterly relaxed underneath hers. But the tone of his voice said that he couldn't stay like this for long. As much as he would like to.

The word brought, and it's tone brought her back to the present and slowly, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, willing the young woman away and replacing it with Marcus once again. He has an odd moment of amusement flash through his eyes as he looks down between them to note the change in position of his lovers manhood, and grins pulling himself off with a soft groan. Stills straddled on the hunky man, smiles lovingly down at him. "Wanna see a neat trick?" he as in the familiar, silken bariton that Dima now knew so well.

As Marcus shifts, Dima's eyes open and he smiled up at the other man. They quickly close once more as Marcus slides from Dima's member, a shudder and a groan sweeping through him. Once he recovered his mental capacity, he caressed Marcus's cheek. "I want to see anything you want to show me." he said sitting up bringing his chest flush with the other mans. Hands trace up and down Marcus's sides.

Marcus grins, letting one hand rest against Dima's muscular shoulder while the other is held up to the side of them, fingers splayed "Nothing up my sleeve" he jokes, eyes flicking down to his nude body, flashing playfully. He slowly touches the wound against Dima's throat. Slowly, as though his tongue had pressed against the small incision, the wound begins to close beneath his fingertips until finally it is gone completely, as though it had never been there. He grins at Dima, touching the deep scratch marks along the rugged mans back, which also fade and disappear. "I can heal any wound that I personally make with just a simple touch of my fingers. Scratch marks, bites,...claws. Anything."

"Marcus that is amazing..." he said in awe, his fingers move to touch his own neck where the wound once was.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked. His eyes sweeping over Marcus with a smile of wonder.

He shrugs some, chuckling "I'm a doctor. I seemed only natural that I wuold heal as well. I wish there was a way I could do more for people like that, but I don't know enough about our kinds more obscure disciplines to be able to figure something out. Most of our stuff seems more akin to manipulating and subjugating, rather then healing." He sighs, then leans in to kiss Dima slowly, cupping his cheek. He pulls back after a few seconds, looking deeply into Dima's eyes "Thank you Dima. This has been the best two nights of my life. In so many ways..."

"Can I drive you home?" he whispered, nuzzling against his cheek affectionately. His was a resigned fate, knowing that he now needed to home as well, his work shop was a sanctuary, that he now had to leave. Closing his eyes once more he rested his brow against Marcus's, "I have to go now..."

Marcus smiles and simply nods some, a hand reaching up to caress his cheek "Yes love. Remember, if you need me, I'll -always- come. If you just want to talk, I'll -always- make time for you. Be strong, and remember that I love you very much" He says softly, his eyes warm and gentle. He kisses Dima languidly, then reluctantly pulls away and rises, smiling over his shoulder at Dima as he disappears into the bedroom.

Dima was silent, but his lips twisted into a smile, his fingers rise up and slowly brush across those lips. Eyes follow Marcus as walked away into the bedroom. A gentle sense of happiness hung about him, that the further from him Marcus walked the more the gentle sense of happiness melted away. Replaced by the wariness that flowed through him at the thought of returning to his wife.