Warnings : SMUT! This is almost sappy…idk Remmick yearns for connection and he’s so so angry he can’t have you without hurting you … erm anyways he’s also a PERV!!!
“I should hate you.”
You rasped it out, like finding the strength or will to say anything else might stop what’s happening - and you mean what you say. You shouldn’t be as sticky and wet between your legs as you are right now, shouldn’t feel like keeping your eyes open is impossible - but it’s too good, he’s so deep you feel him twitch against your cervix.
Your insides are being rubbed and prodded over and over by his length, the pleasure is white hot and spreads all over, inside and out. A tightness inside of you, a pressure that feels overwhelming.
“Y-you should,” he pants, wet mouth glued to the side of your neck - his canines graze your skin and he teases himself with the idea of wrapping his lips around your shoulder and pressing his teeth into you - a shiver wracks your body. You sense it in him, get goosebumps everywhere.
You cling onto his tattered tank top with all your strength, ensnaring your thighs around his strong waist and holding him inside like a vice. He feels so heavy, so deep inside of you - a slow pace with the force of something, not someone.
“But you take it- oh god, y’take it so gooooood.” He mewls, eyebrows pinched together. Red irises glare at you - stare like you’re the sun he hasn’t had the pleasure of basking in for centuries. You see the void, the depths of despair- it feels like a beckoning.
He’s being loud and lewd, peering down between your bodies and the thatch of his dark hair- watching his slick soaked length go in and out and in and out, the sounds are squelchy and obtrusive and fuck he’s somewhere in your stomach, feels like.
“Why are y-you fucking me li-like this?” You plea, and his mouth is on yours before you can take another inhale. Wet, hungry.
He’s moaning against you like he’s never felt the touch of anything good, anything as whole and divine as you - while he spears you - curling his hips upwards while clawed fingers hold your face preciously. Softly.
“Told you - mm, I love you, didn’t I?” He punctuates between thrusts, juices dripping down to your ass and forming a wet spot beneath your bodies. Your old bed is weary, your sheets tired.
You whimper like a hurt, small thing. It makes him feel crazy - makes his instincts become a real palpable thing - if you weren’t the closest thing to salvation something like him could have, well - he doesn’t like to think about that. Would be messy.
So he softens his lip bruising kisses, makes sure to use his tongue and lick all the knicks from his teeth on the spongy surface of the inside of your bottom lip.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re throbbing around me, y’know that? Yeah that’s it - awe baby take it just like that.”
His hips lose a bit of control- his stomach is tensing at the bottom, thighs tight and balls sore - aching to release, aching to soothe this insatiable need to rock you back and forth on his manhood till he’s raw.
You’re a mess down there, swollen and puffy and your arousal mixed with pre cum has coated his cock in this white translucent slick - it’s gorgeous, he wants to suckle your clit and clean you up.
“Love you, R-Remmy.” You hiccup, and if he had a heart that could beat - it’d be hammering out of his chest. He’d do anything, anything, to give you his babies, build a nice big garden out front - dine between your legs for dessert after the house is asleep.
It’s pathetic. That’s what does it for him. It washes over him like a spell - a lucid dream that shatters his ability to hide. He rips the sheets between his fists - and his mouth is buried into the mattress between the empty space of your neck and shoulder.
He’s ripping the material with his teeth, thrashing while his hips form an unsteady, frantic rhythm - you feel it inside of you, his release. It’s warm because he fed earlier - you don’t think of it too hard - and you can’t when your body is quivering and trembling underneath him.
“Cumming, cumming - oh god, Remmick, Remmick.”
You’re fucking yourself on him while the otherworldly feeling creeps in - you’re not sure how he does it, or why it happens - but his release almost always spurrs your own and it’s an unbearable sort of pleasure.
You want to cry, but your voice doesn’t work. He’s still pumping cum into you, you’re coated between your legs with its abundance - and your fingers tangle within his sweat soaked strands of hair.
You tug him up, like you need him to breathe. You kiss him so roughly, he almost finds it cute. But he’s got you pinned to your mattress and he’s sheathed inside of your cunt and he’s a fucking vampire. Ain’t that a bitch?
“Feels good honey? Yeah I know I know, shhh.”
He pecks your mouth, moving your hair out of your face, admiring his work on you. You’re kiss bitten, fucked out, barely here but you’re so completely locked into him - a spirit to the void. A match into the darkness. You are so alive beneath him, a perfect, delirious daydream.
He gives you a second. A human second. Knows you need it the most after he makes love to you, deflowers you over and again. He can’t feel shame. Maybe if he could, he’d feel something close to it - but how can he?
You’re staring up at him, thumb squishing into the soft flesh of his mouth, prodding the fangs behind the pink skin. You trace the lines etched into his skin, wonder what he looked like as a human man. Doesn’t matter now. He’s yours.
You press your nose to his, and he pulls out - you wince and you blink once - he’s in between your legs, licking you clean, sucking and resisting the urge to draw blood - you try to squirm away but he doesn’t let you - it’s almost endearing if you weren’t so overstimulated.
He’s doing it so lovingly, just cleaning up his mess, licking his plate clean. Your clit, your folds, everything he can reach. Kisses your bundle real sweet when he’s done. He’s satisfied, stands up and he’s still not yet fully soft as he pulls his trousers back on.
“Stay.” You say it like you’re surprised it came out of your own mouth. But it was bound to be said at some point. Every time you’re with him like this - the pull gets worse and worse. It doesn’t feel natural, but it doesn’t feel unnatural either.
You’ve got it bad.
He pauses, stares at you in a way that should scare you to death - should make you run. It’s creature - like, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re a threat or not. You’re used to it, know it’s just part of his nature now.
“You mean that?”
He shouldn’t sound so breathless. He hasn’t had a need to breathe in centuries. He steps closer, slowly. And you know that it’s on purpose, makes you smile a little.
You pat the bed, ruffling the covers. His ears twitch, nostrils flare and the scent of you is so perfumed in the air he almost moans.
“I always did like taking strays in.”
He smiles, even chuckles, irises a crimson and obsidian melt of admiration.
“Keep feedin me, and I might stick around too long.”