He was gorgeous, blond curly hair, big blue eyes, shoulders . You're saying the blood oath makes this impossible? Not impossible, but harder. His eyes were closed, but he relaxed against me by inches, until he wasn't so much pinning me to the floor as lying on top of me. I fed, and when I looked up from his body, I saw my eyes reflected in the mirror.
He was one of our serial killers. We'd had metaphysical sex, and like sometimes happens after regular sex I was pumped, energized. He spilled my legs to either side, and jerked me up, off the desk, so that I was suddenly pressed to the front of his body, my legs wrapped around his waist. The orgasm grew, grew until it wasn't enough to just scream, and I raked my nails down Jean-Claude's thighs.
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