Emblazoned across his ivory neck rising to an exquisite face of blushing veins and light mocha ponderings.

I was obliged to obey.

He moaned out at first contact, before the pressure truly began, he shuddered at the contact of bone on flesh, a shudder as my warm breath hit, smothering in circles of open lips, a shudder as my tongue tip pressed gently against his skin as if guiding my bite, as if to taste what might be beneath.

I noticed his eyes closed, muscles tense, his wrinkled forehead and nose and face.
I ignored.

I began to bite down, to truly bite down, slowly. I could feel my incisors slicing their way into his neck, puncturing the softness and inserting something too solid. I felt my jaws tighten at top and bottom, felt the applied pressure as his skin folded and moved and squirmed beneath my kiss. I felt his body begin to shake from the pain, shake from the shock, shake from the bone being driven through his skin.

It didn't take long to break through the ivory and draw blood. Nothing can compare to his blood, thick and dark red and not too sweet. I felt it flowing into my mouth, over my tongue, around my teeth, down my chin, down his arched neck. I followed the trail of sanguine with my tongue...The blood felt warm in me, my mouth, it felt good.

One can only be satisfied by a lovers blood and a lovers bite.