[Luckily for them both — or perhaps not, as the case may be — Mitchell is a consummate liar. It only takes him another swallow and a lick across his teeth before he's able to grin at her, pushing away all the warring he's done, all the pain he's suffered through, everything, so that he can focus on the pride of being able to make her tremble like that in his arms.]
Of course I am. [He leans in and presses a little kiss to the tender underside of her jaw, both to prove to himself that he can without wanting to bite her, and also to prevent her from potentially tasting blood on his lips.
He rocks his hands idly, as smug as can be, the very picture of a bloke about to get lucky and so very pleased with himself because of it.] See, I told you it'd work. [Whether he did or not is irrelevant.]
[ She believes his lie, she foolishly believes his lie, as she has in the past, and would in the future, until her trust was truly broken. As it is, his smile charms her into believing him, her own smile is one of relief then bliss, joy, contentment. Her eyes meet with his after he presses a few kisses to the underside of her jaw, her hands lifting to tilt his face towards hers, pressing her forehead to his for a moment.] I should have never doubted, [ she murmurs the words just barely before her breath hitches at the way his fingers continue to rock within her.
She reaches between them to pull his hand away, arching her body forward into his, inviting him to take what he wants now. Suddenly, the awkward seductress who is utter rubbish at dirty talk, means to seduce the hell out of him and successfully so.] I reckon we ought to see what else works...
[For a moment, a foolish moment, Mitchell allows himself to think that this will be it. They'll curl up together and snuggle for a little while, and Annie will do that dozing-thing she does instead of proper sleep, and he'll be able to walk away from this moment without hurting her.
But then she continues, and his heart sinks. For a moment, he thinks about telling her no, telling her he's not in the mood, or he just flat doesn't like fucking, but that would be a lie on both counts, and it's so important to her that their relationship be just as normal as any other one... He's gathered that sex was an important part of her and Owen, in that Owen insisted on it, and Annie felt that she was letting him down if she didn't live up to whatever nymphette role she was supposed to fulfill.
He hasn't the heart to hurt her by turning her away.
So instead he grinds down the small part of himself that's crying out for him to put a stop to this, slams a lid on it and locks the door, turning a wicked smirk to her as she reaches between them and murmurs so seductively to him.] I can think of something else we could try...
[ When this so thoroughly falls apart, Annie will hate herself for forcing this upon him, for making him think that their relationship has to be normal when it really can't ever be, not ever. It is important to her, yes, to do things that other couples can do because she wants that with Mitchell, she wants to do things she missed out on, she wants him to have those things too, those normal things. Soon enough, she'll be able to accept that things can't be normal, but for now, she holds out a fool's hope.
Annie Sawyer is a fool, after all.
If he turned her away now, it would hurt a lot less than what's about to come, not that she's aware of the cliff's edge she stands upon. She sees his wicked grin and returns it with a confident one of her own, feeling another thrill race up her spine. As one hand guides his hand to her side, the other moves between them to touch him, to touch the cock she couldn't get hard for the life of her before.
She wonders if it will be the same now, if he'll even feel anything or if it will be uncomfortable to be inside of her. Her eyes drop for a moment as she tries to shake her worries, trying to remain optimistic that this will work as well as their previous experiment will.
So with another smirk, she presses a soft kiss to his lips before she shifts above him, aligning their bodies just so before she slowly tries to sink down upon him.]
[He grips her hip with sticky fingers, dread and anticipation both churning in his gut, and it's harder and harder to cling to that little sane voice in his head that's telling him he should put a stop to this.
She so clearly wants him. She wants him. She knows what he is and she still wants him, why shouldn't he indulge?
He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about her slender body before, if he hadn't guiltily jerked off in the shower with her name on his lips and the image of her hands around his cock. Just because her hands are ice-cold doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the touch of them, now that he's felt it, even if he does yelp a little and laugh afterwards, shivering a little.] Cold, [is his only explanation, though he doesn't seem deterred in the slightest, if the way he grips her hips and lets her settle herself above him is any indication.
Her body is just as cold as her hand, but somehow it's not off-putting at all; she's just as soft and wet as she was on his fingers, and when she's pressed this close, he can smell the faint vanilla-earl-grey smell of her so much stronger. He breathes out her name, his fingers digging into her hips, and once again fights against the prickling in his gums.]
[ She wants him, she wants him even more than ever, her body still buzzing with pleasure, heat still warming her from the inside out. However, it seems that she's the only one to feel that heat, given his sudden start and the sound he makes when she arches over him. Her hips stop immediately, her eyes opening quickly to see what's wrong.
He is quick to explain and she is quick to feel guilty, to stop her downward movement, despite his grip on her hips. Her hands move to his face.] I can stop. [ Cold isn't exactly the best reaction to hear, even if she knows it must be true, even if he'd laughed after he shivered.] Should I stop? [ Oh, she doesn't want to, it feels so good, to have him inside of her, like this. It's overwhelming, it make makes her shiver, it makes her quake around him. But if it doesn't feel good to him, she would stop. She really would.]
[Yes. He should tell her to stop and pepper her face with apologetic kisses and tell her he'll finger her whenever she likes but it's just too cold for him to keep an erection.]
Don't be stupid. [Obviously, he does the opposite. He tilts his head for a kiss, making it sweet and soft despite the hunger clawing at his spine.] We're only just started.
[The hands he has on her hips coax her down a little more, rocking her hips gently against his, pulling her down onto his cock properly but not wanting to yank in case she wasn't ready yet. He can do this. He wants to do this. It's not just Annie he's trying to please with this endeavor. He wants her. He wants to push her down onto his — their — bed and make her scream his name, he wants to leave bright red hickeys on her skin, he wants to look at her and have her flush all the way down her chest just from the memory of what they've done together. He aches for her, can feel it in his nailbeds, in the space between each inhale and exhale. There is nothing he wants more than to consume her and be consumed in turn and—
He can't. She's dead. He can't even drink from her and then turn her so she'll feel the same insatiable hunger he does. All he can do is press his tongue to his gums and cling to his self control by his fingernails and pray it's going to be enough.]
[ Again, she is flooded with a selfish relief when he insists they go on, when he seems as eager as she is, when he kisses her so sweetly, so reassuringly. Her hands smooth over his cheeks before combing through his hair, letting him pull her down upon him a bit more, the cold of her body clearly not affecting his ability to stay hard.
God, he's inside of her. They are properly shagging. They are doing something she never fathomed doing again with anyone, let alone being able to do this with him. She wants the same as him, although her fantasy is less than his, she wants to feel the rush of him getting lost inside of her, of his lips pressing restlessly to her face, to watch him consumed by the same pleasure she'd only just been consumed with. She wanted to be the one to give it to him. And yes, she'd probably be pretty content with him pushing her down onto the mattress, making her call out his name, and come so hard that she wouldn't be able to walk (or rent-a-ghost) straight for a while.
She aches for him too, just differently, in her heart, with her body. Her lips press to his again as she sinks down upon him completely, only pausing the length of a kiss to enjoy the feeling of him filling her before she starts rocking above him. Her fingers comb restlessly through his hair, her eyes meeting with as she rolls her hips slowly above his, breathless again.] What position do you prefer?
[Of course this isn't just physical with her. He wouldn't have such a hard time telling her no, if this was just physical attraction. He wouldn't try so hard to make her happy if he just wanted a quick shag and that was the end of it.
He loves Annie. He'd do anything to make her happy. And listening to the noises she makes when she rocks down onto his cock makes it pretty damn obvious this is something that makes her happy.
He bites at his lip, struggling for a moment to make words a thing he can deal with before he manages to choke out an increduloug,] Position? [like it's an incredibly stupid thing to ask. To be honest, it kind of is.
Any position where he's inside her is a good position, in his opinion.
His control, tenuous as it is, frays a little bit more, and he finds himself reaching his arm about her waist, grabbing hold of her so he can twist them both, depositing her down on the bed and letting her bounce a little as he crawls between her legs, stealing a hungry, hard kiss as he reaches down and guides his cock back into her.] This one's good.
[ Again, Annie is eager to please. It's not that she doesn't believe he's enjoying himself but she senses something is a little off, despite his incredible attempts to hide it from her. She's just completely off the mark as to what it might be, thinking that maybe it would feel better for him in a different position, that perhaps he would like it better some other way.
And it seems that despite the way he looks at her like she's utterly mad for asking, he does prefer it a different way. He flips them so that she's on her back beneath him, giving her another thrill as he does so, using strength that surprises her. His kiss is as hungry as any he's ever given her, igniting something inside of her that has her moaning into his mouth. Although, that might be the way he finds his way back inside of her, the way he takes control.
He's not Owen in the way he does either. Even as he flips her onto her back, it feels like she has a choice, like this is both of their ideas because it is. He loves her, he would never hurt her, and he wants her to feel good. She trusts in that, trusts in him completely.
Grinning against his lips, her arms move to lazily wrap around his neck, one leg moving to do the same around his waist, drawing him in deeper, hoping it feels good, the tight clutch of her body.]
[She has to know he'd stop if she asked him to. Mitchell is obviously not adverse to getting a little rough in the bedroom, but there's a difference between hurting her and hurting her. Not to mention he'd want to sit down and talk through any and all hurting that might potentially occur if that was an avenue she wanted to go down.
The last thing he wants is to hurt her. She's been hurt enough and he loves her.
For a while, he fools himself into thinking he can do this. This, with her legs lifting to wrap around his hips, her ankles crossing and her calves pressing against his arse, her arms twined around his neck, her mouth open and lax beneath his, this all seems doable. His teeth ache with the need to bite down, but he's keeping it in check for now, he's managing not to lose his rhythm, and the way she clutches at him makes him think he's doing a pretty good job.
He even manages to keep it together for a solid few minutes of this, of rocking against her and drinking sweet kisses from her lips, but then he makes the mistake of pressing his face to her neck, and while the rational part of him know there's no blood beneath her skin, his vampire hindbrain knows there's a sweet artery pulsing just beneath that cold, soft flesh, and before he knows what he's doing, his teeth are out and he's burying them in her neck in one swift bite.]
[ She loves him, it overwhelms her, seizes her heart completely, makes her flush beneath him, makes her want to cry and laugh at the same time. She clings to him as their bodies slide together in the most glorious sort of congress, the kind of thing she used to read about in those trashy novels she'd pick up at the shop. She wouldn't need those now, not now that she had her own tall, dark, and handsome man to please her, to love her, for her to love and dote on.
It all feels so good, the rhythm of their bodies, the friction that makes the lights flicker a little from time to time. It's delicious, utterly, until it isn't. He buries his face against her neck and her hand lifts to curl against his scalp, her breath coming out in pants against his ear, feeling the same of his against her skin. It's perfect, it's utterly perfect until she feels him tense above her and then...
Crying out, she doesn't actually feel that much pain as his fangs sink into her neck, viciously. It's more the surprise of the bite into her that shocks her back into reality, that has her using what supernatural strength she has to push him up and off of her before she rent-a-ghosts away from him. She doesn't make it far, she simply zips herself off the bed, falling with a large thump to the floor, one of the least graceful efforts she's ever put forth.
The moment her body makes contact with the floor, she's fully clothed, not even in the outfit she'd been wearing before they started this, no, she's right back to what she'd been wearing the day she died.]
[He knows, even as his teeth pierce her skin, that this isn't what he needs. He can feel the lack of blood blooming under his lips, can feel the lack of heat, the lack of life, and the vampire in him cries out, anguished, cheated.
The man cries out for another reason.
Annie disappears from his arms, popping straight off the bed, and Mitchell flings himself away as well, landing on the opposite side from where Annie winds up, although he's still tangled in the bedsheets and completely naked while she's fully-dressed again.]
Annie!— [He doesn't know what to say. He can still feel his fangs out, the ache in them, the frustrated need that he hasn't been able to sate.] I—
Oh god, Annie, I'm sorry. [He flails a little, but doesn't try to get up from the floor, afraid if he tried to stand she'd run away from him and that, that would be something he couldn't bear.] I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... Annie.
[ The moment she collides with the floor, pleasure fades away, giving way to shock and hurt. Anxious, she feels the urge to flee, to zip right out of the room to her own, to get away from him. She goes through a flurry of emotions, shock, panic, fear, outrage then disgust, a disgust that twists her stomach. She is disgusted with him, disgusted with herself even more. Then it's anguish as she backs herself against the wall, away from him, away from what they've done, not noticing that nothing beneath her moves with her, that she simply passes through it, her own figure faded like it used to be.
Tears are already slipping down her cheeks, she cannot stop them, nor herself as she tries to swallow the lump that's suddenly formed in her throat. She holds her hand up] Just... Just stay there. [ She needs a moment to process, a moment to gather the strength to forgive, something she is infinitely good at, except in this moment, she is too shocked to do anything but take in panicked breaths.
What just happened? Had he really bitten her? Did he think... How could he think that she'd want that? Or had she pushed him into losing control? She can't stop the words that tumble from her lips--] Why? [ She'd missed his apologizes in her shock, missed the part when he said that he didn't mean to.] Why did you...
[Watching her scramble away from him is the worst feeling in the world, like someone has reached into his chest and grabbed his heart in their hand and is slowly pulling it through his ribs to throw it on the ground. He feels gutted. Nothing could be worse than this. Herrick shoving a sharpened chair leg into his chest wasn't worse than this.
She's afraid of him.
He feels bile rise in his throat, and he's sure if he was anyone else he'd throw up. As it is, he just panics some more, stuck in his little nest of sheets since he's not allowed to come closer.]
I'm so sorry. [She's crying, looking stunned as tears roll down her face and he's right there with her, except Mitchell is anguished where Annie is numb.] Annie, please, I didn't... I thought I could...
[He thought he could be strong enough for her, but he wasn't. He never has been strong enough. Mitchell has always succumbed to his inner demons, and he should have known better than to think this time would be different.
He turns away from her in shame, curling in on himself, covering his face with his hands so she doesn't have to see his black eyes and the fangs he can't quite will away.] I'm so sorry, Annie. [It's cold comfort, he knows, especially since he's still lipsing behind his teeth. He wouldn't blame her if she left right now, if she left the room, the house, if she left him.
[ He sounds so broken. A voice in her head tells her that just as she looks up at him in time to see him turn away from her. Something inside of her clicks, an instinct that lives deep within her, the instinct that makes her the lover, the caretaker of their little family.
She wills herself away from the wall, rubbing the tears away from her eyes as she wills herself the strength and courage to push past her shock and her trembling hands to crawl towards him. She did this to him, she pushed him further than she should have. Maybe he could have warned her but maybe, as he said, he thought he could. She tempted him and he wasn't strong enough to resist.
Crawling one foot, she actually blips herself the rest of the way, to his side.] Mitchell, [ she says his name in a shaky tone, reaching for his hand but her hand moves right through him. She's too frazzled, too shaken. And she has to take in a deep breath before she makes another attempt to touch him, this time successful, reaching to pull his hands from his face as she kneels before him.] Look at me.
[He jumps a little when she appears at his side, her cold fingers reaching for his wrists, and he scuttles away like a frightened crab, pressing himself against the wall beneath the window like he's afraid to be touched.
He is, to be honest. Everything Mitchell touches, he manages to ruin somehow. And now he's done it to Annie.]
No, don't— [He won't look at her, he can't stand to see that disgust and fear he saw earlier, the shock and pain that had caused her to leap out of his arms. He did that to her. Annie, sweet Annie, who lived all alone for years before they showed up, who welcomed them with open arms, who makes him a cup of tea every morning, who moved all the way to Barry with them without complaint. Annie, who loves him because she's too naive to see the monster he really is.
He hurt her.]
You should go, before I... [Before he hurts her again.]
[ The despair she's starting to feel seeps into her bones, makes it harder for her to do anything, let alone zip across the room to follow him again. Her body is still in shock, going from such exquisite pleasure to the cold chill of anguish. This time she has to crawl, moving towards him with a quick desperation.] Please stop. [ She begs him softly, pleads with tear-filled eyes, although this time she doesn't touch him, if he doesn't want her to.
Still, she hovers, as Annie always does.
It's broken. Everything is broken. And she has to fix it. It's down to her because Mitchell won't try, he'll only wallow it its brokenness, he'll simply let it stay shattered because he feels like he breaks everything. She shakes her head, even if he can't see it with his face turned away from hers.] No. You won't hurt me again. [ She knows that much. He won't make that mistake again, not if she knows him as well as she thinks she does. He will never hurt her again, not like this.] I'm not going anywhere.
[He can feel her hovering, close enough to touch but far enough away to give him some semblance of distance, and although he wants to press himself straight through the wall, he knows Annie need contact for comfort, so eventually he reaches for her hand.
He's probably hurting her, he's holding on so tightly, but he's afraid if he lets go, she'll disappear.] You don't know that. I bit you!
[It's clear he'll never forgive himself for such a transgression. Annie was supposed to be above such things. Annie was on a pedestal, completely separate from his hunger, his cravings, his need. And now he's tainted that, ruined it. Just like he ruins everything else.]
Yes I do. [ Because she has this unshakable confidence in him, one that would take a massacre to destroy. Even then, she would love him through anything, anything at all. Even this.
He's holding onto her so tightly and she inches closer to him, reaching out to brush the hair from his face, to try and comfort him, to try to somehow fix this.] I know, [ is all she can say to it, to the way he sounds, although she will not let himself bury himself in grief and guilt. She cannot lose him, not when she just got him back, not when they finally found each other. ]
Please, Mitchell-- [ she begs him again, trying to pull herself closer to him, knowing full well he'd probably refuse her.] Please don't let this break us. Please. [ Begging is all she can do now, pleading with him not to destroy himself over this, to actually ruin what is between them by never, ever forgiving himself.] You lost control. I pushed you. But you didn't hurt me. You can't hurt me.
[Only a fool would argue in the face of such conviction, would argue against himself the way Mitchell is doing right now; well then, Mitchell is a fool. That is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows him. He is a fool, and he is too self-sacrificing, that is also hardly a surprise, and selfish, to boot. An odd combination, to be sure, but when he would have been quick to throw himself on the spike of rejection, he cannot seem to drag Annie along with him, for when she pleads with him, he lets her tug him closer, and even, eventually, turns towards her.
His fangs gone, his eyes clear, he presses his head to her chest and weeps wretchedly, his fingers curling in her soft sweaters and clinging desperately.]
I hate it. This, this thing inside me. [He's never spoken this aloud to anyone, hardly even let himself think it. He'd never been able to, really, for the consequences had always been too dire.] It gnaws at me endlessly, and I'm weak, so weak in the face of it.
[ Her arms come around him as he gives into her embrace, her lips pressing to the top of his head, hands sliding over his arms and back, soothingly. Her heart breaks, crumbles when he cries, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. But she doesn't dare shush, she lets him speak, she runs her hand over his face and hair.]
Mitchell-- [ It's agony, all of it. He will not forgive himself easily, if at all. And it will drive an wedge between them, a wedge that will soon enough become a chasm, should he descend into despair too much.] You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all... [ She strokes his cheek, thumb brushing over it slowly.] We all slip up, we all have our weakness. You are not broken any more than me or George or Nina. [ She tilts her head downward as she whispers words she means more than anything.] I love you. I adore you. I trust you. You will overcome this because you have me. We can do this together.
[He sniffles a little against her shirt, clutching her closer, so glad for a selfish moment that she's as solid as she is so that he can cling to her the way he does. He seems totally uncaring of the fact that he's still completely nude and she's fully dressed, or that his legs are still tangled in the sheets he tore off the bed with his sideways dive.
Really, it's a miracle George hasn't burst in to see what all the fuss is about.]
I'm sorry for biting you. [The shame of it churns in his belly, making him feel sick when he thinks about it. The worst part is, he enjoyed it. That split-second before his teeth sank into her ghostly skin was exquisite, with the anticipation of satisfaction just dangling out of reach. He disgusts himself.] I thought I could be strong enough to... I'm sorry.
I know, [ she murmurs against his hair because she does, she knows that he's sorry. And that he'll be sorry forever. She won't say it's alright because she knows as well as he does that it isn't, that he'll never think so, that he may never forgive himself.
Her hands lift to try to tilt his head up towards her own, so that she can look at him, so that he can look at her, so that she can press a soft, forgiving kiss to his lips. The daze of shock has worn off quickly and now she is in fix-it mode.] It's not that you're not strong, Mitchell. I took it too far, too fast. [ She'd been too eager. She should have known...]
Did I hurt you? [He finally lifts his head to look up at her with watery eyes, desperate to hear that he didn't hurt her as badly as he thought, that it was okay, that she was fine. If she could feel all the other things he did to her, though, then of course she could feel him bite down on her neck, and the fact that she ported straight out of his arms and into her clothes again is a pretty clear indication that all is not as well as he would like.
He makes a wounded noise into her kiss, his hands clenching in the fabric of her sweater.] I just want to give you what you need. [And if that's the semblance of a normal relationship, then so be it.]
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Of course I am. [He leans in and presses a little kiss to the tender underside of her jaw, both to prove to himself that he can without wanting to bite her, and also to prevent her from potentially tasting blood on his lips.
He rocks his hands idly, as smug as can be, the very picture of a bloke about to get lucky and so very pleased with himself because of it.] See, I told you it'd work. [Whether he did or not is irrelevant.]
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She reaches between them to pull his hand away, arching her body forward into his, inviting him to take what he wants now. Suddenly, the awkward seductress who is utter rubbish at dirty talk, means to seduce the hell out of him and successfully so.] I reckon we ought to see what else works...
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But then she continues, and his heart sinks. For a moment, he thinks about telling her no, telling her he's not in the mood, or he just flat doesn't like fucking, but that would be a lie on both counts, and it's so important to her that their relationship be just as normal as any other one... He's gathered that sex was an important part of her and Owen, in that Owen insisted on it, and Annie felt that she was letting him down if she didn't live up to whatever nymphette role she was supposed to fulfill.
He hasn't the heart to hurt her by turning her away.
So instead he grinds down the small part of himself that's crying out for him to put a stop to this, slams a lid on it and locks the door, turning a wicked smirk to her as she reaches between them and murmurs so seductively to him.] I can think of something else we could try...
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Annie Sawyer is a fool, after all.
If he turned her away now, it would hurt a lot less than what's about to come, not that she's aware of the cliff's edge she stands upon. She sees his wicked grin and returns it with a confident one of her own, feeling another thrill race up her spine. As one hand guides his hand to her side, the other moves between them to touch him, to touch the cock she couldn't get hard for the life of her before.
She wonders if it will be the same now, if he'll even feel anything or if it will be uncomfortable to be inside of her. Her eyes drop for a moment as she tries to shake her worries, trying to remain optimistic that this will work as well as their previous experiment will.
So with another smirk, she presses a soft kiss to his lips before she shifts above him, aligning their bodies just so before she slowly tries to sink down upon him.]
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She so clearly wants him. She wants him. She knows what he is and she still wants him, why shouldn't he indulge?
He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about her slender body before, if he hadn't guiltily jerked off in the shower with her name on his lips and the image of her hands around his cock. Just because her hands are ice-cold doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy the touch of them, now that he's felt it, even if he does yelp a little and laugh afterwards, shivering a little.] Cold, [is his only explanation, though he doesn't seem deterred in the slightest, if the way he grips her hips and lets her settle herself above him is any indication.
Her body is just as cold as her hand, but somehow it's not off-putting at all; she's just as soft and wet as she was on his fingers, and when she's pressed this close, he can smell the faint vanilla-earl-grey smell of her so much stronger. He breathes out her name, his fingers digging into her hips, and once again fights against the prickling in his gums.]
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He is quick to explain and she is quick to feel guilty, to stop her downward movement, despite his grip on her hips. Her hands move to his face.] I can stop. [ Cold isn't exactly the best reaction to hear, even if she knows it must be true, even if he'd laughed after he shivered.] Should I stop? [ Oh, she doesn't want to, it feels so good, to have him inside of her, like this. It's overwhelming, it make makes her shiver, it makes her quake around him. But if it doesn't feel good to him, she would stop. She really would.]
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Don't be stupid. [Obviously, he does the opposite. He tilts his head for a kiss, making it sweet and soft despite the hunger clawing at his spine.] We're only just started.
[The hands he has on her hips coax her down a little more, rocking her hips gently against his, pulling her down onto his cock properly but not wanting to yank in case she wasn't ready yet. He can do this. He wants to do this. It's not just Annie he's trying to please with this endeavor. He wants her. He wants to push her down onto his — their — bed and make her scream his name, he wants to leave bright red hickeys on her skin, he wants to look at her and have her flush all the way down her chest just from the memory of what they've done together. He aches for her, can feel it in his nailbeds, in the space between each inhale and exhale. There is nothing he wants more than to consume her and be consumed in turn and—
He can't. She's dead. He can't even drink from her and then turn her so she'll feel the same insatiable hunger he does. All he can do is press his tongue to his gums and cling to his self control by his fingernails and pray it's going to be enough.]
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God, he's inside of her. They are properly shagging. They are doing something she never fathomed doing again with anyone, let alone being able to do this with him. She wants the same as him, although her fantasy is less than his, she wants to feel the rush of him getting lost inside of her, of his lips pressing restlessly to her face, to watch him consumed by the same pleasure she'd only just been consumed with. She wanted to be the one to give it to him. And yes, she'd probably be pretty content with him pushing her down onto the mattress, making her call out his name, and come so hard that she wouldn't be able to walk (or rent-a-ghost) straight for a while.
She aches for him too, just differently, in her heart, with her body. Her lips press to his again as she sinks down upon him completely, only pausing the length of a kiss to enjoy the feeling of him filling her before she starts rocking above him. Her fingers comb restlessly through his hair, her eyes meeting with as she rolls her hips slowly above his, breathless again.] What position do you prefer?
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He loves Annie. He'd do anything to make her happy. And listening to the noises she makes when she rocks down onto his cock makes it pretty damn obvious this is something that makes her happy.
He bites at his lip, struggling for a moment to make words a thing he can deal with before he manages to choke out an increduloug,] Position? [like it's an incredibly stupid thing to ask. To be honest, it kind of is.
Any position where he's inside her is a good position, in his opinion.
His control, tenuous as it is, frays a little bit more, and he finds himself reaching his arm about her waist, grabbing hold of her so he can twist them both, depositing her down on the bed and letting her bounce a little as he crawls between her legs, stealing a hungry, hard kiss as he reaches down and guides his cock back into her.] This one's good.
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And it seems that despite the way he looks at her like she's utterly mad for asking, he does prefer it a different way. He flips them so that she's on her back beneath him, giving her another thrill as he does so, using strength that surprises her. His kiss is as hungry as any he's ever given her, igniting something inside of her that has her moaning into his mouth. Although, that might be the way he finds his way back inside of her, the way he takes control.
He's not Owen in the way he does either. Even as he flips her onto her back, it feels like she has a choice, like this is both of their ideas because it is. He loves her, he would never hurt her, and he wants her to feel good. She trusts in that, trusts in him completely.
Grinning against his lips, her arms move to lazily wrap around his neck, one leg moving to do the same around his waist, drawing him in deeper, hoping it feels good, the tight clutch of her body.]
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The last thing he wants is to hurt her. She's been hurt enough and he loves her.
For a while, he fools himself into thinking he can do this. This, with her legs lifting to wrap around his hips, her ankles crossing and her calves pressing against his arse, her arms twined around his neck, her mouth open and lax beneath his, this all seems doable. His teeth ache with the need to bite down, but he's keeping it in check for now, he's managing not to lose his rhythm, and the way she clutches at him makes him think he's doing a pretty good job.
He even manages to keep it together for a solid few minutes of this, of rocking against her and drinking sweet kisses from her lips, but then he makes the mistake of pressing his face to her neck, and while the rational part of him know there's no blood beneath her skin, his vampire hindbrain knows there's a sweet artery pulsing just beneath that cold, soft flesh, and before he knows what he's doing, his teeth are out and he's burying them in her neck in one swift bite.]
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It all feels so good, the rhythm of their bodies, the friction that makes the lights flicker a little from time to time. It's delicious, utterly, until it isn't. He buries his face against her neck and her hand lifts to curl against his scalp, her breath coming out in pants against his ear, feeling the same of his against her skin. It's perfect, it's utterly perfect until she feels him tense above her and then...
Crying out, she doesn't actually feel that much pain as his fangs sink into her neck, viciously. It's more the surprise of the bite into her that shocks her back into reality, that has her using what supernatural strength she has to push him up and off of her before she rent-a-ghosts away from him. She doesn't make it far, she simply zips herself off the bed, falling with a large thump to the floor, one of the least graceful efforts she's ever put forth.
The moment her body makes contact with the floor, she's fully clothed, not even in the outfit she'd been wearing before they started this, no, she's right back to what she'd been wearing the day she died.]
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The man cries out for another reason.
Annie disappears from his arms, popping straight off the bed, and Mitchell flings himself away as well, landing on the opposite side from where Annie winds up, although he's still tangled in the bedsheets and completely naked while she's fully-dressed again.]
Annie!— [He doesn't know what to say. He can still feel his fangs out, the ache in them, the frustrated need that he hasn't been able to sate.] I—
Oh god, Annie, I'm sorry. [He flails a little, but doesn't try to get up from the floor, afraid if he tried to stand she'd run away from him and that, that would be something he couldn't bear.] I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to... Annie.
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Tears are already slipping down her cheeks, she cannot stop them, nor herself as she tries to swallow the lump that's suddenly formed in her throat. She holds her hand up] Just... Just stay there. [ She needs a moment to process, a moment to gather the strength to forgive, something she is infinitely good at, except in this moment, she is too shocked to do anything but take in panicked breaths.
What just happened? Had he really bitten her? Did he think... How could he think that she'd want that? Or had she pushed him into losing control? She can't stop the words that tumble from her lips--] Why? [ She'd missed his apologizes in her shock, missed the part when he said that he didn't mean to.] Why did you...
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She's afraid of him.
He feels bile rise in his throat, and he's sure if he was anyone else he'd throw up. As it is, he just panics some more, stuck in his little nest of sheets since he's not allowed to come closer.]
I'm so sorry. [She's crying, looking stunned as tears roll down her face and he's right there with her, except Mitchell is anguished where Annie is numb.] Annie, please, I didn't... I thought I could...
[He thought he could be strong enough for her, but he wasn't. He never has been strong enough. Mitchell has always succumbed to his inner demons, and he should have known better than to think this time would be different.
He turns away from her in shame, curling in on himself, covering his face with his hands so she doesn't have to see his black eyes and the fangs he can't quite will away.] I'm so sorry, Annie. [It's cold comfort, he knows, especially since he's still lipsing behind his teeth. He wouldn't blame her if she left right now, if she left the room, the house, if she left him.
He can't be trusted.]
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She wills herself away from the wall, rubbing the tears away from her eyes as she wills herself the strength and courage to push past her shock and her trembling hands to crawl towards him. She did this to him, she pushed him further than she should have. Maybe he could have warned her but maybe, as he said, he thought he could. She tempted him and he wasn't strong enough to resist.
Crawling one foot, she actually blips herself the rest of the way, to his side.] Mitchell, [ she says his name in a shaky tone, reaching for his hand but her hand moves right through him. She's too frazzled, too shaken. And she has to take in a deep breath before she makes another attempt to touch him, this time successful, reaching to pull his hands from his face as she kneels before him.] Look at me.
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He is, to be honest. Everything Mitchell touches, he manages to ruin somehow. And now he's done it to Annie.]
No, don't— [He won't look at her, he can't stand to see that disgust and fear he saw earlier, the shock and pain that had caused her to leap out of his arms. He did that to her. Annie, sweet Annie, who lived all alone for years before they showed up, who welcomed them with open arms, who makes him a cup of tea every morning, who moved all the way to Barry with them without complaint. Annie, who loves him because she's too naive to see the monster he really is.
He hurt her.]
You should go, before I... [Before he hurts her again.]
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Still, she hovers, as Annie always does.
It's broken. Everything is broken. And she has to fix it. It's down to her because Mitchell won't try, he'll only wallow it its brokenness, he'll simply let it stay shattered because he feels like he breaks everything. She shakes her head, even if he can't see it with his face turned away from hers.] No. You won't hurt me again. [ She knows that much. He won't make that mistake again, not if she knows him as well as she thinks she does. He will never hurt her again, not like this.] I'm not going anywhere.
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[He can feel her hovering, close enough to touch but far enough away to give him some semblance of distance, and although he wants to press himself straight through the wall, he knows Annie need contact for comfort, so eventually he reaches for her hand.
He's probably hurting her, he's holding on so tightly, but he's afraid if he lets go, she'll disappear.] You don't know that. I bit you!
[It's clear he'll never forgive himself for such a transgression. Annie was supposed to be above such things. Annie was on a pedestal, completely separate from his hunger, his cravings, his need. And now he's tainted that, ruined it. Just like he ruins everything else.]
I bit you.
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He's holding onto her so tightly and she inches closer to him, reaching out to brush the hair from his face, to try and comfort him, to try to somehow fix this.] I know, [ is all she can say to it, to the way he sounds, although she will not let himself bury himself in grief and guilt. She cannot lose him, not when she just got him back, not when they finally found each other. ]
Please, Mitchell-- [ she begs him again, trying to pull herself closer to him, knowing full well he'd probably refuse her.] Please don't let this break us. Please. [ Begging is all she can do now, pleading with him not to destroy himself over this, to actually ruin what is between them by never, ever forgiving himself.] You lost control. I pushed you. But you didn't hurt me. You can't hurt me.
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[Only a fool would argue in the face of such conviction, would argue against himself the way Mitchell is doing right now; well then, Mitchell is a fool. That is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows him. He is a fool, and he is too self-sacrificing, that is also hardly a surprise, and selfish, to boot. An odd combination, to be sure, but when he would have been quick to throw himself on the spike of rejection, he cannot seem to drag Annie along with him, for when she pleads with him, he lets her tug him closer, and even, eventually, turns towards her.
His fangs gone, his eyes clear, he presses his head to her chest and weeps wretchedly, his fingers curling in her soft sweaters and clinging desperately.]
I hate it. This, this thing inside me. [He's never spoken this aloud to anyone, hardly even let himself think it. He'd never been able to, really, for the consequences had always been too dire.] It gnaws at me endlessly, and I'm weak, so weak in the face of it.
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Mitchell-- [ It's agony, all of it. He will not forgive himself easily, if at all. And it will drive an wedge between them, a wedge that will soon enough become a chasm, should he descend into despair too much.] You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all... [ She strokes his cheek, thumb brushing over it slowly.] We all slip up, we all have our weakness. You are not broken any more than me or George or Nina. [ She tilts her head downward as she whispers words she means more than anything.] I love you. I adore you. I trust you. You will overcome this because you have me. We can do this together.
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[He sniffles a little against her shirt, clutching her closer, so glad for a selfish moment that she's as solid as she is so that he can cling to her the way he does. He seems totally uncaring of the fact that he's still completely nude and she's fully dressed, or that his legs are still tangled in the sheets he tore off the bed with his sideways dive.
Really, it's a miracle George hasn't burst in to see what all the fuss is about.]
I'm sorry for biting you. [The shame of it churns in his belly, making him feel sick when he thinks about it. The worst part is, he enjoyed it. That split-second before his teeth sank into her ghostly skin was exquisite, with the anticipation of satisfaction just dangling out of reach. He disgusts himself.] I thought I could be strong enough to... I'm sorry.
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Her hands lift to try to tilt his head up towards her own, so that she can look at him, so that he can look at her, so that she can press a soft, forgiving kiss to his lips. The daze of shock has worn off quickly and now she is in fix-it mode.] It's not that you're not strong, Mitchell. I took it too far, too fast. [ She'd been too eager. She should have known...]
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He makes a wounded noise into her kiss, his hands clenching in the fabric of her sweater.] I just want to give you what you need. [And if that's the semblance of a normal relationship, then so be it.]
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