Alastair

When I open my eyes next, Eleanor is already up and about, reading. She notices me and smiles.

"Couldn't sleep, here's some blood, I warmed it for you," she hands it to me, opening the closet.

"Where should we go today? Broadway show? Oh! We could see your movie and go for cocktails. I don't nearly get as drunk as I used to but it's still a trip."

I smile. There she is.

"Whatever you'd like dear. I could go for a whiskey sour actually," I suck on the blood she have me.

I raise my brows. "Fresh?"

She nods, pulling out a pink dress. "I think I'm running low on dresses. Can we go to a boutique this week?"

"Sure," she speeds up to me, kissing my cheek. She looks at me, her eyes twinkling.

Adorable. I touch my chest. Too adorable.

"You're in a good mood," I remark carefully, she lays her head on my lap as I sip the fresh blood.

"I'm happy," she responds. "I like love. Real love not just story love. So we must go to all the places, and do all the things, and cuddle and all the best parts of love stories," she says softly, her eyes on me.

I grin back, press another kiss to her head, and offer her a sip of my blood. She takes it, just a sip, and starts rattling off all the things she'd like to do with me.

I simply must hold her hand in the park as the sun sets she says. And a kiss in the rain is required.

I laugh and add to her list, finding all of the cliches in movies and books we can scrap together to do.

She takes when with bliss, her feet up on the bed, swinging as I lay next to her and she complied a list in the margins of her book.

Next to her book is a pile of M&M's because sharing sweets is for lovers. We chew on them, as we go.

"Number 47, kill a king together," she murmurs as she writes. "Where's this one from?"

I shrug, popping an M&M in my mouth. "Shakespeare?"

She chuckles. "Very incorrect. I feel as though it's just something you want to do."

"Would it be oh so wrong my dearest?"

"I'm putting a question mark next to that," she laughs, "That's so...okay oh! What about going to war together like Achilles and Patroclus'."

"Dear don't you remember how the Iliad ends?"

She frowns for a moment. "Strike that one?"

"Strike that one."

She dissolved into giggles. "Wait...there's one we haven't put that's so obvious, Alastair."

I look over our list. "Fuck in an alley. We did that remember?"

She elbows me. "Get married. We never got married. That's something lovers do. If you still want to, that is."

Ah...I look at her, nodding at her to write it down.

She smiles, looking away her face heating.

"Number 48," she narrates as she messily writes in the margin, in a mixture of cursive, old English and print, get married in all caps. "Get...Married."

She underlined it three times, holding it up to light. "There. 48 is an odd number though," she frowns, holding the book sideways, looking back at me.

"Let's come up with two more or I don't think I'll have proper rest tonight."

"Okay, put kiss on top of the Eiffel tower," she nods, writing it down.

"That's a good one, so romantic,"

I chuckle. "And...I know! Share a brunette in Italy."

She smirks. "I'm not going to ask what kind of share you dirty creature you," she scribbled it out anyway, and resigns her pen and book to the edge of the bed, twirling her finger in my hair.

She's got a permanent little smile now, the edges of her lips turned up at every moment. I kiss that upturned edge.

She's...happy. Nothing could bring me greater joy than to have contributed to this state of euphoria she finds herself in.

Her eyes hood, tongue darting out to moisten her already moist lips.

Unable to resist, I lean in, claiming them for myself, kissing her softly, gently.

She pouts as I pull away. Eleanor has always been gorgeous, the picture of beauty. But Eleanor in love is another sight all together.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are today, my Eleanor?"

"You've just woken up," she murmurs, pressing her nose close to mine.

"And I'm already late," I chuckle against her lips. "You are so very beautiful. And I love you."

Her cheeks heat. "I think you're beautiful too, Alastair. I love you."

And then it's quiet. She's looking at me and I'm looking at her, and it's dark, and there's crickets outside.

And we're in love so it's nice. Her fingers untangle from my hair, sliding down my chest. Slowly, the innocent mood begins to shift.

She licks her lips again, this time in anticipation. Her hands drift down my bare chest, eyes licking down the mesh as she goes.

I shiver despite myself.

She leans, hesitantly, at first, then sure, wrapping her lips around my nipple. My brows furrow, my breath catching.

"Eleanor," I whispered sharply.

She watches me. She enjoys it. Heat Rosie's inside me, bubbling over. I control myself, attempt to. This is my Eleanor, exploring her love for me, in a way she never has.

I want her...to do so. At her pace. What she wants.

She pulls back after a moment, kissing my pec once more before looking up at me.

Waiting. I stroke her cheek.

Silently, she pulls her night dress down, off her shoulders. She reaches out, pulling my hand, guiding it.

She communicates with me in unsure looks. Until yesterday, her version of love entailed me, controlling her every thought and action.

Today, I smile at her in silent encouragement, daring not spoil her courage with the boom of my voice.

She rests it on her now exposed shoulder. I caress it, softly, as she shows me. She shifts in her spot. She's feeling aroused.

She drags my hand down her shoulder, stopping at her breasts. I must resist my animal urges. This is her moment.

My fangs do not mind me though, sliding down, revealing themselves at the thought of my favorite prey.

I know the sweetness of her, inside and out and I crave it.

Still, so as not to betray her love for me, her newfound, budding love—

She's still dragging my hand down, further. Further. She watches my expression. I try to keep it still. I don't want to influence her.

Don't want to taint her thoughts.

I swallow roughly.

"I don't mind when you tell me what to do," she whispers.

I blink, not quite understanding her words. "Yes?"

She nods. "You know best. Even me. You know me best," she whispered. "I like...when you tell me what to do."

I swallow. I am aware of this. Given the choice, if I can make a decision she will prefer I make it. Though, partly to ensure whatever outcome, will not be on her conscious.

"Yes,"

Eleanor smiles. "Because I trust you. And...when I let you make a choice for me and you make a right one...that trust grows. And I feel...at ease. That I don't have to be strong, or think much around you."

She slips my hand under dress. I look in her eyes.

"I don't have to combat you. I can rest."

I smile. Her breath catches. Her hand shakes. She's nervous. She looks at me, between my eyes waiting for me, prompting for me.

She doesn't know what to do.

"Are you asking me to take control from you, for now?" I offer her an out.

Her lips tug up. Her gaze darts away for a moment. "You will hand it back?"

"I will always hand it back," I swear. Her hand steadies.

Her breath shudders. "Show me. Where I like it, Alastair."

She leans back, pulling me on top of her. Her curls flourish against the silk of the bed, soft like her gorgeous brown skin. I kiss her belly. So soft.

I brush her collar bones. Nibble on her ear lobe, lick the shell of her ear. She shivers under me, taking her lips between her teeth.

I move onto her neck, nibbling biting licking. Her beautiful neck, my fangs slightly scratch her. She jumps, her arms around my neck, pulling me close.

Her legs wrap around my waist, as she pushes herself against me.

I make it my mission to go over every erogenous zone, every spot that makes her feel good. She has asked me to show her what makes her feel good, and I will drown her in her pleasure.

"Alastair," she moans.

I rub her inner thighs, pressing my hardness against her, letting her grind herself on me, on my yearning for her, as I sink my teeth between the juncture of her neck.

Her moans explode into screams of pleasure. I pour my curse into her, only making her more intoxicated.

I'm overwhelmed. I want to feel her from the inside, I want to pour myself inside her, and somehow, the waiting makes it better.

I pull my fangs from her throat, her blood seeping down my chin as huff, trying to keep my focus.

I pull her down, tearing her night dress down, devouring her a second time, enjoying the taste just as much.

She drenches me a second time, her hands pulling at my hair begging me for mercy.

"Give me a moment, wait, darling," her back arches, her nails raking down my back, her fangs gleaming.

It is in our nature to devour and be devoured.

I am honored to be her favorite meal.

I lean back. I give her a moment. Reprieve. Rest.

She pants, curls sticking to her forehead. "You're going to mess me up, Alastair?"

"Will you let me?"

She looks at me, and then smiled, opening her hands.

She invites me in. I chuckle. Never invite a vampire in, isn't that from a story?

I take everything, but I destroy what I am given. I pull her close, my hand on the back of her head, holding her, cradling her close as I stretch her, bend her, break her to me.

It's been so long since I've been inside her. Eternity is cursed without it, with her warmth, the way her walls try to drag me in, deeper than her body can even allow.

"What is your surname, Eleanor."

Her eyes are hazy, skin slick with sweat. I smile, brushing a curl back.

She seems to register the question before blinking. I pause my movements, letting her mind absorb my inquiry.

"I...I don't have one."

I smile. "What is your surname, Eleanor?"

Upon my second time asking, her eyes light up in recognition.

"La Rue."