the same time, I was apprehensive as to what his reply would be. "I thought of nothing else but you last night. You said there were alternatives—one where you could take a little of my blood."
"Roger, don't—"
"No, let me finish, please," I pleaded. "I've really thought a lot about this. If you did that, like drink from me every now and then, you said I would live two or three hundred years more than the normal lifespan. What I was thinking was this,"
I said, warming to my proposal. "Why don't we do that as a sort of trial period thing? Then if you get tired of me, you can just stop the process and move on, free to do what you want."
He sat staring at me for the longest time, his beautiful lips slightly parted as though he were about to say something, but no words came. Instead, I saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears.
"Marcus?"
"Roger," he said, his voice no more than a whisper. "Do you know what you're saying? Do you think I would lead you on under the impression you were somehow dispensable? If—
and I mean if we undertake this arrangement, it would never 91
My Vampire and I
by J. P. Bowie
be with that escape clause you just mentioned. My dear Roger..." His tone grew harder. "Do you think so little of me as to even consider that I would be tempted to discard you?"
"No, no—that's not what I meant at all," I said, panicking at his angry expression. "Oh God, I guess I said it all wrong.
What I meant was ... was ... Oh, I didn't mean to make it sound so ... so..." I broke off lost for words, the hurt look on his face making it impossible for me to complete my thoughts.
"Roger," he said at last. "I think you are possibly the sweetest man I have ever met—bar none—and I want you to know something. I hold you in much greater esteem than you do yourself. For some strange reason, you think yourself unworthy of me. Where on earth did you get that impression?
Certainly not from me, for I have told you how special you are."
"Yes, you have," I interrupted, as is my wont. "But see, it's really hard for me to understand how a gorgeous guy like you could ever be interested in someone like me."
"Stop that." Now he looked really angry. He stood up, almost knocking over the table. He grabbed me by the arm.
"Get up, now!" He marched me outside into the darkening street. "Close your eyes. Now!" he barked as I stared at him, eyes wide open. "Very well then..."
He put his arms around me, and I felt my feet leave the ground. I looked down—Whoa! I closed my eyes, and held on tight. We alighted in the courtyard of his home. Oh, oh, I thought. He's really mad at me. No bedroom this time. He 92
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released me from his embrace before pacing up and down, frowning and talking to himself in some strange language. "Look, I'm sorry," I said, trying to get his attention.
He glared at me for a moment, then he was standing in front of me, cupping my face in his hands, kissing me with a hard passion. I kissed him back, clinging to him, pushing the erection I'd had ever since he'd yelled at me in the bar against his crotch. I pulled his shirt free of his jeans and ran my hands over his rock hard torso.
"Marcus, Marcus," I mumbled into his mouth. "I love you, I love you..."
We were naked, our clothes torn from us, flung aside by some invisible hand. He knelt before me, taking my near bursting erection between his lips. His hands caressed my butt, pulling me further into his mouth, while his tongue swirled around the head of my pulsing cock. As hard as I tried, I couldn't control the rush of my climax as it tore through me, rocking me to my very core.
With a strangled cry, I ejaculated into his mouth. His emerald eyes bored into mine as he sucked me dry, his hand draining the last vestiges of my orgasm over his tongue. I collapsed into his arms, and he held me, kissing my open mouth, letting me taste my own essence.
"Now," I whispered, arching my neck and inviting his