FicWad

"Yeah," I moan, grabbed hold of Lyllia's right hand, squeezing tight. Her lips moved around my dick, I moaned more, cum spurting into Lyllia's mouth.

"Oh," she squealed in delight. I could tell she liked it.

These what I'd like to call "sexcapades" had begun about a month ago, after I met Lyllia after a show. She was a fan, and she wanted me, so why not let her have what she wants, I figured. Her sexy smile, gorgeous nosestud and dyed jet black hair turned me on so much, I couldn't resist the temptation of just HAVING her. But after awhile, I noticed there was something different about her. Something... peculiar. Whatever it was though, I liked it. It was what made Lyllia, Lyllia. Sometimes she would sneak off in the middle of the night, saying she had business to attend to. I'd wait for her in bed, patiently until she came back to me. She'd always say the same thing, "Oh, I just had some business to attend to," but she'd come back looking rejuvenated and energized, something she only looked like at night. And she refused to go outside during the daytime, not like I minded. I would have much rather had her in bed any day, then have her out in the hideous sunlight, prancing around like a child. I myself was never too fond of the outdoors. Nevertheless, I found myself falling more and more in love with Lyllia everyday, even though all we really had was a sexual relationship, and not a real, full-blown, "I love you" mushy love shit type thing, the type of thing that most people would want. I could stand just having sex with her. It was fine. But I still wanted more, I longed for more, I longed to have... all of her... somehow.

But that's not what she wanted, and I respected that fully. Though I still to this day wish that I would have spoken up and said something to her, about loving her, wanting her... I just feel like I can't. I still can't, after all this time. It's been a few months since we've met. We've continued sneaking off together, making love, writing songs together and she even did a few voiceovers in one of my songs. She wanted to be a star, and I wanted to make her one. I wanted to do whatever would make her happy, anything to make that girl happy. She was beautiful, and I needed her in my life.

"Baby, come back to bed," I purred, about an hour after she had given me head. She was off writing something in one of her journals, something she would always do.

"What, is that your sex journal or something? You write in it everytime we fuck!" I joked. She laughed.

"Oh, it's just.. nothing, baby, nothing," she tried to explain, a confused look spreading upon my face.

"Whatever," I said, tired. "I have a show to do tonight. You coming?"

"Of course," she answered. "I always come to your shows."

"Yeah, well, you missed the last two."

"I was... busy."

"The hell you were," I said sarcastically.

"Marilyn, I have something to tell you," she winced. I was expected her to tell me that she wasn't interested in being my fuckbuddy anymore, that there was another man, but no. It was so much more than that.

"I... I'm a vampire. You know, one of those you see in those clubs you have shows at. But a real one, Marilyn. I go out at night, and I feed on human beings. That's what I'm doing when I'm away from you."

I was shocked yet completely fascinated at the same time. I wanted to know about this whole other world, I suddenly wanted to be part of what she was talking about.

"Tonight, after your show, meet me on 24th street, at the antiques shop. I'll show you where we prowl, what we do, how we live. I'll make you a part of it. I'll make you a part of our life."

This, to me, meant that she was welcoming me into her life. Permanantly. How could I refuse?