Moonlit Surrender
Chapter Ten

Lucy's heart thundered in her ears as she climbed the old tiled staircase of John's building, her ascent illuminated by the hum of flickering yellow sconces on the walls.

"Wait for me," she repeated to herself with an excited curiosity. What game would they play tonight? What new places would he open up in her?

She reached his floor and entered through the heavy metal door to his hallway and found his apartment number. Her hand touched the doorknob carefully, unsure of how she was supposed to let herself into someone else's locked apartment. She was shocked to replace the door open when she gave the handle a twist and a light push.

The wide-open room was quiet and dimly lit by the open windows on either side of the couch. Moonbeams spilled in over the antique furnishings and she found it so easy to believe she had entered another place in time.

She dropped her purse on the couch and began to remove her coat and clothing and found herself wondering about who this man was, where he came from, what he had seen. She recalled he had mentioned he had been living by night for a few hundred years. What was it like to live so long? What had he seen in his immortal journeys?

She peeled off her undergarments and set them with the rest of her clothes on the side of the couch and then turned to the coffee table. Gingerly, she pressed the weight of one knee on it, not totally convinced the old piece of wood could bear her weight. Despite her skepticism, it held, and she carefully crawled atop it, knees spread, palms down, and waited.

If he had been a vampire for a few hundred years, when was he at his mortal prime? Somewhere in the late 1600s? So many world altering events had happened since then, the course of man changed by catastrophes and wonders. How many had he witnessed? She wondered where in the world he had been, the places he had seen, the history he had touched. Where had his journey begun? What did it feel like to live so long? Lucy had barely been able to make it through the past twenty-two years. Her knees began to ache a little against the unforgiving wooden surface and she shifted slightly and peered through the darkness at the thin outline of light through the crack at the bottom of his front door, wondering if he would walk through it soon.

Lifetimes. The man had lived whole lifetimes. She tried to wrap her head around what that would be like. Did immortality change how one viewed the world. How many times had he witnessed history repeat itself? Did he even care anymore? Then, she was suddenly struck by just how young she truly was compared to him. Even under normal circumstances, if he was only in his forties and not three hundred-forties, she would probably seem naive and maybe even a little boring to him. Wouldn't it be tedious to speak to someone who knew so little in comparison? How silly her troubles and worries must seem to him, how inconsequential. She looked around the room again, wondering if perhaps he had wandered in without her noticing while distracted deep in thought, but the room was still and undisturbed. She shifted her weight again with a soft sigh.

Wait for me.

She smiled. He had reached out to her. This invitation meant he too had been thinking of their night together and he wanted more. She felt her fingertips tingle and that low frequency hum spreading through her body, stirring a heat that settled in her womb. Through the building desire, like the tumblers of a lock falling into place and releasing their hidden treasure, she saw the meaning of the game unlocking in her mind.

This is a test. He's testing my patience.

She remembered him asking if she could follow directions, and she felt a singular need to prove to him how well she could even now. Whatever he asked of her, obedience would show him she was worth the effort. It would show him how she wanted to please him, how desperate she was to feel him conquer her again. She would stay here as long as he demanded, to prove these things to him, to show him her devotion, to earn those two words she craved. It was all a test to see if she would follow him the way he required. This was the game they played tonight, not one of desire, but of will and dedication.

She settled in and suddenly savored the discomfort, knowing it was all for him. The bite in her knees, the ache in her wrists, the kink settling in her neck, it was the same way it felt when he had choked her and held her down. She felt him in the pain, felt his power over her, and she melted beneath it, willing in that moment to exchange her very soul if need be. She lost herself in this strange meditation. As minutes turned to hours and time slowly slipped away from her, she was keenly aware that nothing held her here but her own will. She could get up and leave the very same way she had come in if she so chose. She knew it would be so much easier than staying here on her hands and knees and waiting an indefinite amount of time for some dark, impassioned creature that had waltzed out of a legend and into her life.

Or would it? Could I just leave and pretend none of this ever happened? Could I refuse and let him slip back into the unknown?

I can't. Not anymore. There's no leaving now. I want to know where he's leading me. I want to see it and I want to taste him again.

There was no other option now but to obey; her heart had made it so. There was no place else to go, no one else to see, nothing more worth her time now, and she waited. She sighed and closed her eyes, feeling something inside her letting go. She embraced the pain in her knees and wrists and accepted this as her reality. Naked, in the dark, on top of John's coffee table was all that existed and all there was to do was to obey him.

She felt something tickle up the inside of her thigh and for a moment thought she had imagined it, but then out of the darkness came John's unmistakable deep voice, "You're doing well."

She melted under his praise and felt his fingers dance over her hips and into the gentle slope of her lower back then up her spine until they pushed her long hair over her right shoulder. His hand slid under her torso to fill his palm with her left breast, his cool lips and prickly stubble touched the base of her neck and slowly kissed their way over her shoulder blades then returned down her back.

Lucy let out an audible sigh and wiggled under the tickle of his short beard across her skin.

"No more of that now," he ordered. "You will wait, and you will wait perfectly still, until the time is up. Do you understand?"

She felt so many questions bubbling up inside her, the loudest one being, 'How long?' But she knew better than to ask out loud. She cried out as she felt the unforgiving bite of his palm land hard on her left buttock. "Previous rules still apply. What do you say when I ask you something?"

She sucked in a shaky breath and answered meekly, "Yes, sir."

"Perfectly still now, dear," he reminded and settled into the chair just in front of where she perched. "Yes, sir."

The room was so dim she could barely make him out in the darkness, but for the hazy cool light of the moon spilling into the room in luminescent beams. The flecks of dust dancing in the light looked like stars or possibly fairy dust, bathing the room in an aura of fantasy. It was no fairy king or moonlit angel that sat watching her though, but a monster out of time and shadow perched on the antique chair, watching her with mysterious and all-knowing gray gems. She shifted and bit her lip as she thought about all the wicked ways he had touched her and found she wouldn't have anyone else in this room right now. He had made it impossible for her to imagine surrendering to anyone but him.

"The clock has restarted," he informed her.

She looked up at his silhouette confused. "But I-"

"Not a single movement, dear."

She sighed and steeled herself to do better. "Yes, sir."

He swung his left ankle over his right knee and leaned onto one armrest, his chin propped on his loose fist. "Tell me what you're thinking right now," he asked gently.

"It's hard to put into words."

"Please, try."

She paused thoughtfully. "I want to wait."

He nodded. "Very good. You may leave if you decide you do not wish to continue."

"I know."

"You do?" he asked with a genuine note of surprise in his voice.

"It's like the wrists thing, right?"

"How do you mean?"

"It's about choice. You want me to want to do it."

"Yes. You're a sharp student, Lucy."

"Thank you." She rolled her shoulders, unused to such compliments, and fought the urge to curl into herself and hide from it. She was glad her burning cheeks were hidden in shadow. "The clock is reset yet again," he informed brusquely.

She grimaced and internally chastised herself, then settled back into embracing the stiffness settling in her legs and the dull ache radiating in her neck.

His voice softened to a conversational tone. "What do you feel right now?"

"Well, my knees hurt," she said and chuckled.

"Yes, and what else?"

She reflected silently, then answered, "Calm."

"Even though you're in pain?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you feel calm, dear?"

"That's hard to put into words too."

"Pressed for time, are you?"

She smiled. "I suppose not."

"Tell me when you replace the words."

"Yes, sir." She closed her eyes once more and found that quiet space to fall into.

Calm. Peace. Where I belong. Conquered. Purpose.

"There's nothing to decide, nothing else calling me, no other way to be than just to be. And," she paused thoughtfully, "I can feel the weight of your command over me, like a warm blanket. It's soothing." She heard the friction of the seat cushion depressing as he leaned forward. "Yes, and why is that? Am I forcing you? Have I taken the choice away?"

"No," she laughed. "No, because I want to, like when I held my wrists up. You didn't take it, I-I gave it to you, and you made me want to give it to you." She was startled by the brush of his knuckles on her cheeks. "And what a gift it is," he whispered just in front of her. He tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear. "I'll tell you a secret. Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir." She smiled.

"You make me feel calm as well, but it's from gaining your gift."

She wasn't sure what he meant, but she felt glad if he felt the same calm that washed over her now despite the piercing ache she was beginning to feel in her knees. There was pain, but there was peace.

He leaned forward and she felt his fingers slip under her chin to tilt her face up to his, she felt his cool lips press against hers tenderly and groaned as she felt the muscles in her neck tense and tighten her shoulders, but reveled in the intimacy

of his kiss. His hand left her chin and slid down her chest. He filled his palm with her right breast and left a sharp pinch on her nipple that made her jump before he sat back in his chair and informed her coolly as ever, "The clock is reset." Maybe she should have felt an injustice or as if she had been tricked, but all that filled her was that strange calm and the desire to wait all night if it meant another kiss from him.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his leg over his knee once more and they lapsed into silence.

She found the quiet harder to handle, with nothing but her own thoughts to try to distract her from the pain. Reminding herself to embrace it, don't fight it. Let it hurt.

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She waited there, in the dark, with nothing but John's own mysterious, private clock ticking the time by as she struggled to remain as still as she could but for her breathing. The novelty of the game wore off quickly and the battle of endurance grew more intense. She fought her every urge to scratch, shift, or wiggle, to kneel back or forward to relieve the weight on her legs, and as time stretched on, the urge to cry as the pain turned to frustration.

How long had John waited for something so inevitable to the mortal creatures around him, yet something that would never come for him? What did it feel like to watch decades stretch into centuries? She was suddenly struck by the revelation that immortality must be a terrible burden and not the gift mankind so often dreamed up. She thought of the suffering in the world, of illness and grief and emotional wounds, hurts that at least had an end in sight when bodies gave up and returned to the dirt they came from. What was it like to carry it all seemingly indefinitely, subject to some unknown and unseen countdown with no end? She could not answer these questions that rolled about in her head as she posed there quiet and perfectly still, but she knew two things as she knelt on that old wooden coffee table in the middle of that dark apartment: John suffered, and John waited. This moment would come to pass. Her discomfort would end before the night was through, but John's would remain. She tried to pierce through the darkness to see his face, filled with a compassion she could not possibly verbalize, except for, "I get it." "What's that?" he asked.

"I get it."

"I know you do, dear. There is freedom in letting go, under the right circumstances that is."

She was going to correct him, to explain what she actually meant, but then it dawned on her that this revelation had not been part of the game or something he had intended to lead her to. She decided instead to keep it to herself and simply nod.

He hummed low, the gravel of his heavy voice filling the room, and she heard fabric shifting as he leaned forward once more. "And again the clock is reset." He rose to his towering six-foot-something height and planted his feet in front of her. Without a thought, her head tilted back and followed his ascent, catching the twinkle of moonlight off of his shiny belt buckle just an arm's length or so from her face. "Are you getting impatient, dear? Losing focus?"

She felt a wave of tingles tickle down her sore back and settle into a pool of warmth between her legs as she watched his dimly lit hands begin to unclasp his belt. The buckle jingled, the zipper purred down, and then his cock was out, just a breath from her face as he slowly stroked himself.

She licked her lips but tried her hardest to remain still.

He said nothing, just ran his closed fist along his length in front of her, taunting her, tantalizing her, tempting her.

She remembered his taste, the feel of his girth in her mouth, his smell, and the sounds he made when she swallowed him. She wanted those things again and her mouth watered in anticipation.

His hand reached out and gathered her hair back over to one shoulder, tickling his fingers through it for a moment before they slipped under her chin and tilted her head all the way up so that his tip hovered just beyond her moist lips. "Open your mouth," he ordered.

Her lips parted obediently.

Slowly, he guided himself into the warmth and softness of her mouth and rested on her tongue. She could feel the test without him having to waste a single breath on an explanation. He had not lifted his previous command to remain as still as possible. He was deliberately teasing her. It took every shred of will in her body to resist the urge to close her lips around him and suckle him down into her throat.

Slowly, he retracted, then slid back in, rubbing himself against her still tongue as his hand returned to comb through the hair behind her head. She could hear his shaky breath and feel the tension in his fingers as they threaded through her locks. He, too, was holding back. With a soft sigh, he slid out of her and then tucked himself back away in his slacks, but did not fasten them. She heard his footfall circle around the table and then stop behind her. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt his teeth carefully sink into the ample flesh of her ass cheek. His hand grabbed the other roughly with his nails pressing into her and she felt herself spread open with a soft whoosh of air washing over her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, open. Controlled.

She moaned and leaned backward into his touch and felt him settle himself behind her with his other hand replacing his mouth to hold her spread open. A curse slipped out of her as his lips met hers. The soft velvet of his tongue ran up either side of her labia, taking a small taste, like an impatient child stealing a lick of frosting from a piece of cake. He licked again and she parted, open to him. His tongue twirled around her opening and then dipped in to steal a deeper taste, slowly dragging down her slick folds until it circled around her swollen clit. His nails dug into her again as his own excitement grew. Raised up on the altar of his coffee table, she gave herself over willingly to his voracious appetite, letting him feast on her until she felt her body begin to quake and her toes curl. She was moments away from not just losing control and moving, but tipping over the edge of pleasure.

His mouth left her when he felt her reach that edge and whispered huskily, "You will wait for my permission tonight."

"Yes, sir," she sighed and felt her body quivering and ready to break.

She felt him pull away from her and heard his footsteps land beside her. She tried to peer into the darkness out of the corner of her eye to see his face, but all she saw was his silhouette settle onto the couch, outlined in a dim halo of moonlight through the windows behind him. His shadow slipped off his tie and tossed it aside, then slowly unfastened the buttons of his shirt before shrugging it off as well.

"Come to me," he commanded. "You may move freely now."

"Yes, sir." She dropped one foot to the carpet and felt a stiffness in her muscles as she attempted to uncoil herself. She moved slowly, stretching her body back into an upright position, then squinted against the shadows, still trying to make out his features in the dark.

"Don't worry about sight tonight, dear. I'll be your eyes."

She hesitated a moment, unsure if she was allowed to ask anything, but dared, "You can see?"

"Yes, sweetheart. I can see everything. There's no need to worry." She felt his hand reach out and lift hers to pull her to him.

She followed his guiding hand to the couch and straddled his lap as she fell forward into the hard wall of his chest. Her hands fluttered up to brace herself on his shoulders and felt his palms slide up her thighs and settle onto the curve of her hips. "Tired of waiting?" she teased with a coquettish smirk.

"Sassy little girl," he chastised in a hoarse whisper before grasping her delicate throat in his hand and guiding her through the darkness to his lips.

She felt his cool mouth press to hers firmly, still slick with her dew on his chin. She sighed against him and ground her hips down into his lap and felt the hard lump of his cock trapped beneath his slacks. She leaned back and using her hands followed the hills and valleys of his abdomen down to the waist of his open pants.

Excitement coursed through her at the sigh he let out and the way his hands fell away and he leaned back in surrender to her lead for the moment. Her hands were clumsy in the dark, but she pushed aside all the fabric separating them and then pulled him out to rub in her palms. With nothing to focus her sight on, she closed her eyes and instead focused on the width and weight of him in her hands, memorizing the feel of him, and felt a tingling in her body as she recalled just how it felt to have him inside her.

His mouth came forward to pull one of her nipples into his mouth to be sucked and nibbled as she stroked him. His moans slowly grew louder, muffled into her breasts, as she continued to pump and twist him in her hands while his fingers climbed up her back and ran over her shoulders in a gentle massage. She tilted her head back as she felt his fingers reach her hair and begin to comb through it as his mouth moved to her other nipple. Anticipation swelled in her and she grew antsier in his lap and moved her hands to press his shaft against her spread pussy to rub herself against him with her passionate grinding.

He lifted one hand to rest firmly on her throat once more and used the other to guide himself into her and answer her silent pleas for more.

Her thighs shuddered and squeezed him as he slid into her tight warmth. She leaned forward and caught his moan on her tongue and initiated a deep kiss as he thrust up into her. His hand didn't choke tonight, just held her firmly to him as both his tongue and cock penetrated her.

Just like last time, she could hear the sound of her wetness with each plunge of him inside her, could feel her slick nectar spreading across her thighs and dampening his slacks.

"Such a good girl," he groaned. "Such a lovely mess."

Her head lilted back in his fist in ecstasy, savoring the way he made her feel. The louder his moans grew, the more desirable she felt and the more fervently she rocked her hips into him. There were no thoughts of inadequacy in his presence. She didn't replace herself dwelling on the lapse of time or the anxiety to hurry up the way she did with Ben. She wasn't worried about being wet enough or catching up. All she felt was her arousal and the way he stoked it and led it forward or reined it back. Her body was his instrument and how he made it sing.

He grunted and, with his one hand still on her throat and the other firmly planted on her ass, made one fluid motion with his inhuman strength and forced her onto her back on the cushions beside them as he shimmied out of his pants and settled on top of her.

She looked up with a soft sigh as half his face was illuminated in a stray beam of moonlight. The cool gray of his eye was on fire beneath his furrowed brow and she saw his square jaw relaxed and his lips slack with lust. She reached her hand up to his cheek to catch the sprinkling of the salt and pepper of his stubble as he sunk himself into her. He turned to rest a gentle kiss in her palm, then leaned down to land the rest of his kisses on her mouth as he ground himself deep into her. Her hands fell away limp as he struck that secret place inside her. Her volume rose and her eyes fluttered closed just for a moment before settling back on the half of his face she could make out.

His hands moved roughly over her breasts and he whispered low, "How long can you wait, sweetheart?"

Her body stiffened and bore down into his thrusts. She already felt the warm gushes spilling from her and knew the orgasm would not be far behind. "I-I can't!" she whined.

She saw in the cool light of the moon his thin lips curve up in a pleased grin, but his thrusting halted suddenly and without mercy.

Lucy wanted to scream. It was too late to stop the wave of pleasure that swelled in her. Her body obeyed its own laws and she cried out as her thighs quaked and tried to press together despite his body firmly planted between each knee. He was an immovable mountain of judgment and did not bend beneath her groans and clawing. He stood fast, watching her orgasm die out in a splendid show of agony.

He bent down next to her cheek and brushed the side of her face with his knuckles. "What was tonight's rule, dear?"

Her toes were still curled and her fingers still digging into his upper arms. Her pussy clenched spastically for his cock, aching to begin again and reach the climax her body so desperately craved. She groaned pathetically, reason escaping her as she was lost to this foreign, sweet anguish. Her hips arched up to him in a silent plea.

"The rule, dear." He grasped her jaw and turned her head to face him fully, his face bent low out of reach of the windows and masked in shadow once more, but for the tiny glint of light reflected in his eyes like that of a feline in the dark. Still breathing heavily and her body still vibrating with want, she looked into the otherworldly eyes staring back at her, his weight full and pressing her down into the couch. "I..." She trailed off with a hum as she felt him unfold her arms to rest above her head the way she had held them their first night together. "To wait for you."

"Yes." His cool lips touched her cheek and then trailed down her jaw to her ear to suck and nibble on its delicate lobe. "Wrists up as we did before. You remember?" "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, don't forget, you're not to come until I give my permission, otherwise there will be consequences this time. Punishment. Do you understand?"

A foreboding tingle slithered up her spine as she thought of how easily he could toss her around like nothing more than a ragdoll. "Yes, sir," she answered meekly. He gingerly set her leg over the back of the couch and held the other open with his palm against her thigh and then settled his mouth against her pussy once more. He groped a handful of her fleshy thigh and licked up her lips hungrily. She felt his hand leave her leg and two of his fingers slide into her and curl up into her walls while he suckled her clit. She grasped the armrest above her, fighting every natural impulse in her body to curl up into his kiss. She gasped when she felt his teeth bite one of her lips and then heard his low, smoky voice rumble against her, "Beautiful, delicate flower, I'm going to finger you until you wilt." Lucy's moans heightened to cries and strange high-pitched whines she had never heard come out of herself before. His precision was unmatched, a man well practiced in his craft beyond the scope of any mortal. His fingers beckoned her closer and closer and his tongue returned to work the swollen bud of her clit. Whatever muscle it took to hold back an orgasm, Lucy had never once flexed it. Sex had always been a race, an unspoken countdown as soon as Ben entered her. The name of the game had always been to hurry up and get hers before he got his and slowly lost interest. She was shocked to replace herself failing so miserably under this new game.

"John, I," she trailed off into a whimper. "John, I can't. Please. Please, let me come."

He moaned against her clit, clearly enjoying her begging, and she whimpered louder.

"This," she gasped and tried to wiggle away from his molten kisses. "This isn't fair. How am I supposed to resist something you've clearly mastered over the "

"Come for me," he commanded against her suddenly. "Be a good girl and come now."

Her eyes closed and she let go and lost herself in his tongue, in the rhythm of his fingers inside her, in the ticklish prickling of his short beard against her, and the sounds of his own moans vibrating through her. She cried out with a throaty groan and clung to the armrest as if her life depended on it. Swears and curses and deities she didn't even believe in spilled from her lips and she felt the electrical pulses course through her and light up every nerve ending in her body. He didn't halt his vigorous pace until he was sure he had drawn out every last shiver and groan from her before he pulled his mouth and fingers away. "Good girl," he uttered hoarsely. She let out a contented sigh and relaxed back into the cushions, her hands still held above her head. He did not wait for her to catch her breath before climbing back on top of her and sliding himself inside. Still sensitive and pulsating, she whimpered as she felt him stretch her back open. He placed her legs on either side of his shoulders and then grasped the couch's arm and plunged into her roughly. He moaned loudly as he devastated her, forcing her deep into the cushions with his rough fucking. She felt her body slide up until her head was pressed against the wall of the armrest and her knees bent close to her chest. She felt smothered and utterly trapped beneath him and she groaned in euphoric delight. She could hear his heavy panting, feel his breath against her. She heard his every moan and groan and reveled in his great pleasure in her. His sounds increased in volume steadily and his rough plunges stayed inside her and slowed, but did not ease up their violence. She felt the tension in his body and the way his muscles flexed and held their place like a marble statue hovering over her. The final sound that left him was low and held a note similar to pain, as if she was stealing his very soul out of him - assuming he still possessed one to steal. She felt his release into her, moaned along with him and clenched her walls around him to milk out every last drop. He shivered from it and fell forward, his forehead coming down to rest on hers, and he sighed once more, "Good girl," remaining a long moment, keeping their bodies merged as she gradually caught her breath and his slowly faded away back to silence.

He slipped out of her and let her legs fall to drape off the edge of the couch and then slipped his fingers under her hands and brought them down with a light kiss on her fingers and another gently placed on her forehead. She heard a click and then warm white light blasted through the room and her eyes squinted closed in shock. After a brief moment of adjustment, she opened them and finally, under the artificial light of the lamp on the end table beside him, she saw the specter that had just conquered her. A vampire. She still couldn't believe he's a vampire. Or maybe she could. What normal man could do these things?

The lines in his face were relaxed and soft. He rested against the couch's back, still mostly turned towards her, naked and his lap still glistening with the sticky dew of her own release. One of her legs hung off the side with her black painted toes in the soft rug beneath them while her other stretched over his lap. His arm settled across the top of the couch and his other settled on her leg to run his palm and nails over her sensitive inner thigh. His luminescent gaze watched her and she watched him in their strange and comfortable silence.

She shifted and pulled her hair out from under her to cascade off the couch and he continued to touch her and watch her. Her eyes began to feel heavy, and she swore she was only going to rest them for a moment, but then slowly everything, even his tender smile watching over her, faded away.