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He smiled up at me. “Pretty magical, huh?” I nodded and twisted to see my side. It was also healing, though much slower. The wounds had scabbed over and still hurt like hell, but as I watched, they slowly grew smaller, leaving red scar tissue behind.
“More,” Jack urged, reaching up and pulling me down to him. He kissed me then, his mouth hungry as his tongue slid between my lips to stroke mine, even with the taste of his own blood in my mouth. The thought made me moan, and his hands slid into my hair, pressing my mouth harder against his. The kiss that had started softly became anything but as years of hidden desires burst forth, and he took what he’d needed for so long. There, in the darkness, with no hope of escape, I took what I needed too—comfort, touch, and maybe even love.
I rubbed myself against him, and he groaned. He tore my mouth from his, and pulled my head back to his throat. I needed no further urging, and bit him again. His hands found my breasts, sliding over my skin, slick with his own blood. His fingers toyed with my nipples, nipping at them, pinching harder and sending thrills through me.
I felt his hands slide into my hair again, then drift slowly down my back, like he wanted to touch every inch of me. I wanted the same, and I pulled away from him, breathing hard.
“I want you, Jack,” I murmured, meeting his gaze with no shyness at all. We were going to die here. What did I have to feel shy about? I just wanted to feel alive one last time. His cock jerked beneath me at my words, so I slipped backwards a little, giving me room to slide my hands inside his briefs and around the hardness inside. He sighed with pleasure and lay back as I skimmed my hands up and down his length. He reached down, and with a sharp tug, ripped my underwear down the sides, pulling them off of my body. The friction against my clit as he dragged the fabric over my pussy nearly made me come on the spot, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Sending a prayer to whoever the god of contraception was for the implant embedded in my upper arm, I lowered myself slowly onto him. He was a decent size, and it had been a couple of years. I sucked in a shaky breath as I felt him fill me inch by inch.
He went to move, but I pressed a hand against his chest. “Can you... wait... just for a second...” He scooted back on his elbows, bringing me with him, until he was leaning against the wall. It pushed him deeper inside, and he pulled my legs around him.
“Jack, fuck, Jack...” I moaned, feeling every tiny shift inside. He didn’t move his hips, just brought me against his chest to kiss me softer this time, slow and steady. His fingers twined in my hair, and one hand teased my breast until the tension built up inside and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I began to move, his mouth still on mine, sliding slowly up and down his length. He shuddered and dropped his hands to my hips, taking control back. I let him, crying out as he lifted me and then pulled me down hard onto him. He did it again and again, and I went with him, slamming myself against him, raking my nails over his shoulders and back.
His chest seemed to rumble, like a low growl, and he moved me faster, harder, thrusting up inside me with jerks of his hips that were almost painful. I didn’t care, I wanted every inch of him, every touch, every kiss, every caress. I had lost the others. Their loss filled me with grief that only made me desperate to take every moment of pleasure with Jack that I could.
Faster and harder he went, his smooth skin only inches from my mouth, and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I broke the kiss and sank my teeth into his throat. He roared, and I clung to him, my nails clawed into his shoulders. He slammed up inside me, spilling his seed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through my body. Colours flashed behind my closed eyes, and I hung on to him like an anchor in the storm that carried us both crashing into sweet oblivion.
I woke sometime later, sprawled across his chest, in a warm mess of sweat, blood, and semen. In earlier encounters, I would have been rushing for the shower, but here in the dark, it felt good, almost primal. I lifted my hand and moved it slowly, twisting it around. Not even a twinge. Dropping it to my side, I felt along my ribs to the two slashes that had been made by the hatay—the slashes that had almost taken my life. I could feel the soft, shiny skin of new scar tissue and a deep ache behind it, but that was all. The rest of me felt awake and energised. I was also starving, but not for blood. I’d been well sated with that with Jack urging me to feed until my body grew strong again. I could kill for a cheeseburger and fries though.
The thought sobered me. We were in underground tunnels being hunted by demonic creatures with no way out, and somewhere beneath us, West, Wesley, and Zayn had either been crushed to death or devoured by mummies. At least I wasn’t alone. I reached up and ran my hand down the side of Jack’s face.
He didn’t move. I did it again, and nothing. At first, I decided he must just be in a deep sleep, but as I lowered my head to his chest again, I made out the thump of his heart. It was slow, painfully slow, to the point where I half expected the next beat to never come. I sat up and slid off him to crouch at his side. In the greyness of my night vision, I couldn’t tell if he looked pale or not. I reached out and laid my hand on his forehead, as he had to me. He was clammy and cool. That wasn’t a good sign.
With a sinking feeling, I realised I’d taken too much from him and weakened him to the point he was unable to recover. Panic flared up inside me, and I looked down at him, lying there so still and silent as though he were already... I couldn’t go there. He was not, not yet. I reached out and touched my fingertips to the wounds on his neck that hadn’t begun to close.
An idea struck me. Lifting my hand, I brought my wrist to my mouth. Wincing at the thought, I bit down and sank my sharp fangs into my skin. The blood welled up, and I turned my wrist over quickly, letting the ruby drops fall onto Jack’s lips. With my other hand, I slipped my finger inside his mouth, trying to pry open his jaw. Remembering a first aid class I’d done as a teenager, I pulled my fingers away and slipped my hand under his chin, tilting his head back so that when I removed my hand, his mouth fell open. I let a little of my blood drip steadily inside then pulled back, wrapping my fingers around my wrist. He didn’t respond to the taste, and I was afraid to pour more into his mouth in case I drowned him.
Maybe it might take a while, maybe this little amount might give him enough energy to swallow. Maybe not... Remembering how he’d held me close to warm me, I crawled over him to the space next to the wall, wrapping his arm around me and nestling into his side, pressing as much of my skin against his as I could. Then, alone in the dark, I waited.
