The Most Beautiful Sight In My Life
© Keryn
kerynnessa@hotmail.com

Disclaimers: i do not own any of the vampires (although I have a 'thing' for all of them).. I am not writing this for profit because that would be wrong (so so wrong)

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He is biting his lower lip.

And how that simple gesture burns me so. Slowly, his gorgeous violet eyes still fixed upon the newspaper article he is reading, he releases it, exposing it -luscious and full- to my hungry gaze.

My eyes make a quick sweep over his frame. He is draped in a loose, gray shirt. I love that shirt, I love how it smells of him when I bury my face in it. I love its soft texture. I love it because I love its owner. His legs are encased in soft jeans -faded blue in colour- his pale feet peeking out from the hems.

He shifts slightly to his left, giving me a better view of the right side of his face. My questing eyes travel down from his eyes, to his perfect nose, then his delicate jaw, further down his lovely neck - here a sigh escapes my lips- and settle on his collarbone.

I'd like to nibble there.

He cannot sit still. He shifts again, and a lock of ash blonde hair falls forward into his eyes. He brushes it out of the way, slim fingers lightly brushing his smooth forehead.

For a moment he doesn't move. I take the chance to explore his beautiful self more. The simple silver earring in his left earlobe lends him a dangerous look - rebellious, outrageous... sexy.

I travel south again. His chest, his strong arms, his legs. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

"Armand?"

I blink. My eyes meet his. He is staring at me inquiringly. "Something wrong?"

I shake my head no, and motion for him to come over.

He does so, unfolding long legs from beneath him. Slowly, he makes his way towards me.

I reach out with both hands, and he comes into them. He is bigger than me, yes, but in many respects I am older than him. He is very mature, but with me he is his real self, no pretenses, no masks. He is at his most vulnurable with me, and a man - when it comes down to it- is just really a little boy.

My beautiful boy.

With endearing trust he lays his head on my lap, making himself comfortable. We remain that way, not moving even a centimetre, for a few minutes.

I am looking down at his perfection, he is looking up at me.

"Lover," I say to him, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear, "I cherish you."

His piercing violet eyes turn a darker periwinkle colour, and darker still until the colour is almost blue.

He captures one of my hands, places a kiss on the tender skin at the wrist. Soft, gracefully soft.

He is waiting for my permission. I silently beg him with my eyes.

And slowly, oh so slowly, he bites into my wrist. Is that a spark in his eyes? I feel the suction that pulls my blood into his mouth.

I dare not close my eyes, for I want to keep watching him.

He closes his eyes, sighing.

Then he is done. He lets my hand go. Sitting up, he pulls me to him. Then he kisses me.

Everywhere.

On my forehead, my brows. Between my eyes. On the lids of my now-closed eyes. On the sides of my mouth. Then finally, the long awaited moment, on my lips.

An eternity passes.

I open my eyes again.

He is gorgeous before me, my salvation, my child. The sole reason I struggled to survive after the fire. The source of my hapiness.

He is all this, and more.

My lover.

My love.

I keep watching him. He watches me too.

"Daniel," I say.

He smiles a little. He likes the sound of his name on my lips.

I lean my forehead on his. My eyes are closed now, but I can still see him in my mind. I can still watch him.

"You are beautiful."

I kissed him again, then again and again.

"The most beautiful sight in my life."

THE END