Day #5: Obsession
They woke up together, as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. The thick curtains blocked out all light, but they knew. They awoke at this time every evening. But this time was special. This time, they were going to have some fun.
Rising from the hard floor, Midnight ran a tongue over his pointed canines and in one smooth move swept his long dark coat over his inky black clothes. They contrasted nicely with his frosty white skin, made for a striking image that drew attention when he wanted it and allowed him to melt into the shadows when he didn’t.
From her place on the floor, Blaque watched him, a lazy smile playing about her deep red lips. Then she stretched languidly and poured herself to her feet. She, too, was dressed in black, her skin white, her eyes darkest blue compared to Midnight’s deep brown. They exchanged knowing glances filled with anticipation, and Midnight reached a gloved hand for one of Blaque’s own. Squeezed it. It was nearly time.
Andy would be waiting for them in the park. They’d met him online a few months back, spent the ensuing weeks learning information about him, hinting at their desires, coaxing his own out piece by piece.
He was a perfect fit. For them, for their dreams.
They ghosted out into the glimmering twilight, streetlamps shedding golden puddles over the ground, and together made for the parklands where they found Andy – their blonde-haired, grey-eyed dish – loitering by the water fountain. He was dressed in light colours – shades of brightness and joy – and it was Blaque’s turn to run her tongue over her teeth. She could almost taste him, and a glance at Midnight’s gleaming eyes assured her he felt the same.
They greeted each other, if not warmly then at least pleasantly, and Midnight led them through the darkening park to the far side, where a rent in the fence led out to a disused, overgrown parcel of land. It was here they would spend the night. Here they would indulge, delight, feast.
They settled beneath the low hanging branches of an old weathered tree, Andy nestled between Midnight and Blaque. As the last of the light vanished he seemed suddenly tetchy, twitchy, hands trembling slightly.
Blaque leaned forward. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, voice deep and throaty. A shiver rattled through Andy’s body, and Midnight frowned. Surely he wasn’t planning to back out now?
As if reading his thoughts, Andy said, ‘I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I’m ready.’ And he arranged himself, that his wrists and throat were bared to the night.
Midnight took up the man’s tanned flesh in light fingers, raising the pulsing point to his lips. He’d wanted this for so long, too. As a teaser he traced the tip of his tongue over the veins in Andy’s wrist, then plunged his teeth into the taut, healthy skin. Blood erupted from the vein, spilling over Midnight’s lips, slicking his lapping tongue, and he fed greedily as Andy sighed rapturously.
Neither Blaque nor Midnight liked the term Clinical Vampirism, or Renfield’s Syndrome. There was nothing clinical about what they did – their obsession with feeding off another’s life force, the imbibing of their soul, about passion, emotion, feeling.
Blaque watched the ecstasy take over Andy’s face, the blissful glow burn from his half-closed eyes, and with a smile she bit deep into his neck, felt the explosion of blood fill her mouth. She moaned, latching on to his flesh, sucking harder. In their arms, Andy relaxed and they gently lay him on the ground, never breaking contact.
It had taken time, but Andy was the piece of the puzzle they’d been missing. The giver, that they might take.
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