grave robber

Eve's menses came at dawn, thick red fruit that rimmed her lower lips like a psalm.

Lucifer smelled it, the thick tang of a dying egg - plush curtains of flesh shrouded in bits of crimson apple. Eve slept, her red hair and ginger lashes, tan skin, and moony freckles shimmering in a white night gown.

He was serrated hunger - choppy black hair, a roving tongue, thick fingers... pale as the stars. He gently spread his hellwife's legs and kissed a way up her inner thigh, tracing the waxed skin of her pussy.

She was so much more than woman. He felt like her toy. He loved it. She, the font of all life - he tasted the blood, his fangs sucking them in like wine. Crisp, like fall. Harvest blood. Fruit.

He set his lips to sucking at her clitoris, the hood retracting as he nibbled, licked, sucked, and blew. Eve shivered in her sleep, crying out like a mewling lamb.

He pawed at her breasts, massaging them, then parted her curtains and gently licked the labia, cresting to kiss her belly. Her gold red curls spilled down his back like alizarin wheat. He felt a great burgeoning love for his hierodule, for his ascendant, for his little bunny. Grinning, he plunged his thick, triple-forked, catsrough tongue into her canal, drinking down her blood like Dracula.

"The fruit of the womb," he murmured after an hour of making love to her with his face.

She woke in a sweat, orgasming for the dozenth time. She found Lucifer, sweaty and spent, between the crux of her legs.

"What a nice way to be woken up!" Eve piqued, smiling dopily.

Her green yellow eyes, with flecks of hazel, and a gaunt, horse-like face from all that trail running, had an austere beauty about it. She massaged his shoulders, and he rested atop her breasts.

"Anything to ease your cramps," he smiled.

They kissed, then ate

French

Toast.

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