Of Winter and Embers

I stare at my naked self in the mirror. There is a huge red mark on my neck from where he ‘bit’ me. I bring my right hand up to touch it, and it still smarts slightly. I suck in a breath as my fingertips trace a circle around its edge, and after a couple of moments, I feel a familiar chill rush through my body.

My gaze wanders around the room. Parts of my pirate costume (as well as his costume) are scattered all over the floor. I don’t mind, really. The scene brings back memories of what happened the night before...

*-----*-----*

I’m at Fancy Pants’ Nightmare Night Masquerade Ball. Despite already being dressed up as a pirate, we’re given masks to wear. I was given a purple one.

I was having a conversation with Fleur-de-Lis, Fancy Pants’ lover, at one point last night. I don’t really recall what we were talking about, but I do remember that I was talking to her when I saw him...

*-----*-----*

My gaze travels up to the snoozing figure on the bed. Like me, he’s naked, save for the sheet covering him from the hips down. As I look him over, I’m tempted to let my fingers roam where my eyes do: along his body, maybe underneath the sheet. If I did, I’d slide my hand down beneath the sheet, wrap my hand around his stallionhood and wait for him to wake up or harden in my grip, whichever comes first...

*-----*-----*

Normally his eyes are dark brown, almost black. Tonight, though, within the bright red mask he’s wearing, they’re bright gold with flecks of red, adding a wildness or ferality to his piercing gaze. He’s wearing a crisp suit, and on his shoulders sits a black cape with a red underside. Our eyes meet, and he gives me a broad smile. I quickly realize that he has fangs on.

He’s dressed as a vampony. A Luna-damned vampony. For some reason I’m not surprised.

He suddenly gets this look in his eye, like he just realized he had some kind of purpose for being here, and he makes his way towards me. The way he’s looking at me is smouldering.

I quickly realize that despite the coolness of the night, and the fact that the large, two-storey doors are open and letting the night breeze float in, it’s suddenly too hot. Everything suddenly seems off, and I know why.

...Those eyes only see me during the winter, and the snows won’t come for another month yet...

*-----*-----*

I give in to my temptation and touch his body. It’s a little soft, but there’s muscle underneath. He stirs, but remains asleep. My temptation grows, and I suddenly want to kiss his lips, his chin and his chest...

*-----*-----*

“This seems weird, almost wrong,” I say to him as we dance.

“Oh?” he asks, genuinely curious. “How is that?”

“It’s not winter,” I reply feebly.

He smiles warmly, dropping his facade as a creature of the night for a moment. “I know,” he says, “but tonight I’m not Amaretto Quill, and you’re not Spitfire.” He grins as if hiding a secret. “Tonight, you are Cannon Blaze the Pirate Queen, Scourge of the Seas, while I...”

He raises an eyebrow as the song around us ends. He lifts my hand up to his lips and kisses the back of my hand, the tips of his fangs brushing against my knuckles. “...I am Night Fang, the Vampony whose crypt you have looted from. Awakened from my thousand year slumber, I wish to feed, and who better than to feed from than the one that defiled my place of rest...?”

*-----*-----*

A pang of regret beats at my heart, but I quickly force it away. It seems like we broke an unspoken rule of our relationship.

And yet...

I’m okay with it.

I look at his face and I cup my hand around his cheek.

I don’t regret overstepping a boundary we didn’t realize we placed. I will, only if he does...

*-----*-----*

We rush past the door into one of the many guest bedrooms that Fancy Pants has in his estate. The fleeting thought that he actually has so many guest bedrooms is so his guests can enjoy private affairs like these...

My mind goes blank as he pins me behind the door, slamming it closed and locking it with a quick and simple use of his magic. His eyes bore into me, and I suddenly feel helpless but at the same time protected.

“All you have to do is tell me ‘no’, and I’ll stop,” he says with genuine concern. I nod, and his gaze reverts to that of his ‘Night Fang’ persona. He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Such a sweet little thing to attempt to steal from me,” he says in a breathy voice.

“I am no ‘sweet thing’,” I reply, trying (and failing) to maintain an air of arrogance. “I am Cannon Blaze, Pirate Queen.”

He smiles mockingly. “A queen?” He chuckles once. “Then it would seem I’m in for a royal feast...”

*-----*-----*

His eyes flutter open and he looks at me.

“I don’t,” he says, reading the worry in my eyes.

He doesn’t say ‘Good Morning’. He doesn’t ask if I enjoyed last night.

He knows me well enough to address my concerns right away.

I grin, and look down at his hips. The sheet is starting to tent.

“Let me be Spitfire the Wonderbolt, then,” I say, still looking at the bedsheet. “And instead of being Night Fang, you can be Amaretto Quill, a bartender, author, and Spitfire’s lover.”

I look at him and see him smiling. “With pleasure.”

I lift the sheet off him and straddle his hips. Within moments, I feel him inside me, and as we moan in unison, I realize we’ve just broken another unspoken taboo.

We’ve never made love in the morning...