AN : My very first one-shot to say thank you to a special someone who inspires me and makes me want to write : Jo (Ecullenitis).
Merci mille fois to Naelany who generously beta it.
So you want me to be French? You are fantasizing about me murmuring sweet French endearments in you ear, while teasing you endlessly?
Ma Puce…Ma Belle…
Hush. Be quiet. We wouldn’t want to wake up Hubby. Let him get his sleep while I am satisfying you. While I am making you tremble in my arms. If you want me to stay, you have to remain silent. Even though I would love to hear your reactions to my caresses, you can’t make a noise
Ma Douce.
Breathe. Just breathe…. Good.
So tell me Mon Coeur, aren’t you jealous of Bella? Don’t you want to be her? Don’t you want to experience all these delicious tortures you are describing in your fanfics? Because each time you write about her with me, you wish it were you, don’t you? You wish you were the one whimpering at my touch. The one shivering at my breath on your neck. The one moaning as my lips brush the rim of your ear. Did I cover all the required vocabulary? Shiver, whimper, and moan? Am I missing something?
Hush. Breathe. Stay quiet. Now it is your turn to experience everything. You will feel my hands wandering over your skin. You will feel them slide freely from the base of your neck, to your shoulder, and back to your collarbone.
I have never really quite understood this fascination for the collarbone. Are you too shy or prudish to write what you really want: to have my fingertips go down and rest at the hollow of your breast? I would love to draw arabesques between them, accentuating each curve to nearly touch your nipples. To have you beg me to touch them, to brush them slowly and repetitively. Believe me, this would be much more exciting than any caress on your collarbone. See, you’re shivering.
Would you implore me to carry on my exploration, to travel down your ribs to your belly? I know you love my hands, my long pianist fingers. Do you want to feel them brush closer to your arousal? Do you wish me to play you until you come undone in my arms?
Will you become demanding like my lovely wife? My fingers don’t satisfy Bella anymore. As you wish so much to be her, maybe I could let you try our private caress. Let you feel my breath on your arousal. Lick you intimate lips. Let you experience the velvet of my tongue.
Chut ma Puce. Sois sage. Ne fais pas de bruit.
I guess this is too much for you. You can’t cope silently with this level of torture. I will have to tease you with my velvet voice and not my velvet tongue. Too bad, I was quite looking forward to tasting you.
Maybe I can have you differently. I could breath on your neck. Lick your vein from the base to your chin and blow on it, sending tremors all over your spine. I could nibble on it. I wouldn’t bite you or drink your blood. I am too much of a gentleman for that, aren’t I? Or maybe not. You have this romantic idea of me, this image of a lovesick puppy unable to harm his beloved Bella. You think I am a coward. Maybe I should prove you wrong. Maybe I should show you what kind of vampire I really am. Reach my inner James and savor your appetizing blood. Let you feel powerless in my arms, your back pressed against my chest, your neck exposed, offering this nectar to your dear and noble Edward.
I wonder what your thoughts would be if I was drinking you as you keep your eyes on your sleeping husband. Would you still be aroused? Would you start panicking? Would you swear never to read stupid fictions again, blaming all the writers you love so much for luring you to believe this dream version of me? Would you wish the same fate on them?
Let’s try. Here, let me taste you.
Hum…. So delicious….
Oh, you are moaning. Is my venom already attacking you? Is the pain excruciating? Do you still wish to be Bella? Bitten by James, nearly dead, suffering for long minutes.
Hush. Stay quiet. I have no desire to transform you. Or to kill you.
Yet.
Here Ma Belle, let me suck out the venom.
There. Isn’t it better? Breathe. Exhale slowly.
Ha. I am quite pleased. Now, I will always be with you. Not only in your dreams Ma Puce but on your body too. You will have my mark upon you forever. How will you explain that to Hubby, tell me? These two scars on your neck that will remind you not to misjudge me. Each time someone will notice them, each time you will touch them, each time you will see them, you will remember who I truly am.
Don’t forget the real me, because I won’t forget you.
And I will always be listening.
--" Last Tango in Paris" --"Santa Maria (del Buen Ayre)" - Gotan Project
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