《 What does a vampire like Ferid Bàthory feel when he makes love to his beloved woman? 》
• Ferid Bàthory x female!reader
• Something like a breath of a thought
around 1.5 k words
As in a burning memory, his eyes flash with fire, alight as if with life in their eternal pale death. Sharp, frozen in their perfect symmetry, Ferid Bàthory's features glow ghostly. But just a moment, and everything from the straight lines of the brows to the thin, long lips smoulders with warmth as the vampire's face is bent over you and the sharp red eyes, warmer and softer than ever, are fixed on his sweet wife ― naked and so beautiful in her serene life on the soft bed beneath his cold body.
The kindling that illuminates the vampire is different from the dramatic and acidic display of bitter expressions that only increase his melancholic emptiness so often. Now, when the tips of his gray locks sway smoothly, brushing against those sensitive and tender nipples of yours ― sweet like some fresh cherries, Ferid Bàthory's face is lit with life in the depths of his searching eyes, even if that vampire making love to you is theoretical just a dead man.
His coldness engulfs you as Ferid's naked body presses against yours again, and as if with a tremor of a being that would have no reason to tremble like this, Ferid Bàthory desperately pushes to touch you between the soft sheets of the bed. Clinging to your hot flesh, face buried in your shoulder. Your eyes are closed, but Ferid's parted lips whisper his gasp, the breath that will never come again.
You can not see your lover, but feel him, his icy breath sliding down your tender neck and thin lips touching your skin. But you do not even flinch, your serenity comforts you in the sweetest security you feel when Ferid Bàthory simply kisses your neck.
So simple yet meaningful when his lips sink and the tips of his fangs feel vaguely yet so fine in their purely harmless contact. Because the vampire does not bite you ― it is not the blood and the inhumanity that drives Ferid to you. But his nose sinks, inquisitive, his cold lips kiss the spot on your warm skin where your pulse beats most fiercely, loudly. Your life, which is a call to his own lost humanity is what subjugates Ferid Bàthory in your being ― as a believer in the creed of his great religion.
Ferid greedily draws your specific scent through his nostrils and the cold kiss pierces you again. His arms pull you close in an embrace where his cold body is so warmed by your wonderfully alive warmth.
Your heavy breathing echoes in the darkness of the room, like a warm breeze, a breath of life, as Ferid seeks to touch you more, to hold you so much as he makes love to his beloved woman.
For a moment, his face is hidden among your strands of hair, like behind a fine curtain. The kisses on the neck slowly moved up to your lively face. Ferid kisses your feverish cheeks again, searching for your lips desperately.
In that agitation of his, your thin arms slowly stretch out and you writhe, once your breasts bounce slightly, bare in that coldness of the room and his slightly rough and icy chest.
You hug him, murmuring his name ever so softly, confident and warm. Your voice alone tickles the Ferid's spine, in tandem with your warm palms that sweep up and down, brushing his bare, slightly quivering back that tenses so fiercely as he struggles on top of you.
You breathe again and your soles strain gently into the soft sheet, along with his so cold, pulling the bedding into the intensity of this cold body struggling for you.
His mouth touched yours. Ferid kisses you once, twice. The vampire kisses you with insatiable desperation, like a gourmand who can not get enough of the dainty on his fine plate, and yet a fear dances in him ― thus Ferid often holds back and looks at you ― the vampire is afraid for this dainty of his to ever end.
And in the darkness of the bedroom, for a moment, Ferid's lips are away from yours, in a continuous tremor. Under his melancholic and deep eyes, burning in their feeling, you also look at him, feel him. How lips without living breaths shy away from having you again. But your hand sneaks slowly. Soft fingers grip his gray, brittle locks and you pull Ferid Bàthory into another deep and secretive kiss of yours.
It is your will, your pleasure. His eyes close, sealed by thin lashes and a smile flickers from his part into your kiss. How intoxicating to Ferid can be this desire of him by his sweet wife. Because you do not allow yourself to be simply devoured like the fine food on a gourmet's plate, but you squeeze him, knead him, subjugate Ferid so closely, endlessly.
With his knees propped into the soft mattress, his body tenses up more. Ferid Bàthory kneels down to make love to you.
You kiss Ferid deeper, your living breaths slipping between those dead lips of his. Your warm hand caresses his loose locks. Shivers shake him and Ferid trembles with the fever of such a fierce sense of belonging. Acidic expressions and words no longer have a place on his lips.
Your kisses overwhelm him too fiercely. Just a moment you pull away, inhale, and your warm breath is once again passed between his dead lips.
Then you murmur his name again and Ferid responds in kind, with a different inflection in his voice as his cock is pulled again, slipped between your warm folds, in the warmth of your delicious thighs
The feeling swirls, shakes him, but like every aspect of you ― the kiss, the hug, the togetherness ― Ferid trembles with desire, and you tug at him so fiercely.
Like a vital breath of your being, natural, from inertia, comes the way your whole being pulls and overwhelms Ferid Bàthory.
Your folds tighten again, he pulses coldly in your fever. You both kiss so passionately. For a moment, the words gathered at the corner of his lips again.
“ Oh, Y/n, butterfly, I can't breathe on these cursed lips of mine anymore, but I can breathe so well through you… Your pussy, love, I'm afraid it's becoming a vital organ of mine… ”
A faint chuckle in his moans, but the man's gravely lined face overwhelms you with a deep, longing gaze, full of a different kind of madness ― one just for you, a great faith in his beloved woman.
Ferid kisses you again. And slowly, you enfold yourself around him, hugging the vampire in desperation, your pretty legs wrapped around your lover's waist as his dead body pushes itself further into your warm vitality.
And you pull Ferid again, between your sweet thighs that seem to want to give life to your dead lover. And stubbornly, with desperation and frenzy like a fanatic, Ferid Bàthory penetrates you, slides between your folds, as if the movement of the love act can replace him with something lost long ago.
Your flesh smacking together, the wet kisses, his cold cock sliding into your feverish pussy until the pubic hair of both kisses and rubs together ― all these sounds and states of the carnal become heartbeats, pulses and breathing, all that what the vampire lacks. You, in itself, become the living life of Ferid Bàthory.
Oh, and as he says, how can he stop this, from enjoying you together, when this act gives him such vital things?
The dark bedroom is a witness, and so is your own living desire, where Ferid Bàthory makes love to you for hours and hours and one thing dances in both of your senses ― meaning, life.
Every kiss, hug, sliding between your sweet thighs ― an exaggeration from his part? Not at all.
How Ferid often murmurs, when his cold lips can form something other than kisses for you, that your lively pussy becomes another center of his existence.
Bizarre, intense, but it is only that ― how Ferid Bàthory's life has such a deep meaning when he makes love to you.