The male in the story’s age is actually undetermined, but is definitely over 18c so is just put at 30 for the general idea of his appearance.

—- The air seemed so very still tonight. It was quiet outside, all the people of the village with their doors and windows locked. Nobody dared leave after dark.

The only sound she could hear was that of her own, shallow, frightened little breaths. She laid still in her bed, dressed in her finest linen. Despite her terror, she simply laid there, so delicate and pretty like the perfect offering.

Nobody had seen the creature and lived to tell the tale. Only rumours and deliberations about what it was, maybe a dog, maybe a faerie, maybe a man maybe with the legs of a goat, or horns, or eyes like a wolf. But nobody has seen it. Only the drained corpses of the drunkards and the ones caught out in the night.

There was not a noise to be heard, not even the soft chirp of night birds. It seemed as if the entire world had gone silent. Just in the window opening, a slight, cool breeze passed through the curtains and caused them to wave gently. As if it were a sign.

Slowly, a shadow appeared outside the window. It remained motionless, waiting, and watching. He could hardly believe it; a beautiful young woman, her delicate throat bared as she laid so vulnerable. He heard her heart begin to beat faster as she looked over his form in the window. He inhaled quietly, and he could almost taste her blood on the air, beckoning him. She was frightened. But she did not move, or scream. She just stayed where she was, laid out like a gift. And then something most unexpected fell from her lips.

“Come in...”

His breath hitched at the sound of her soft, uncertain voice. An invitation.

Never had someone welcomed him in so freely. He was almost speechless. But he recovered quickly, and in the most graceful movement, leapt through the window, landing silently. Within mere moments, he was stood at the foot of her bed, observing in silence.

Her eyes widened as she looked over him with a sort of curious terror. He had not looked like she had been dreading.

He regarded her quietly, his dark gaze travelling up her form. He was tall, slender, but with a noticeable strength about him. His features were sharp, intense, handsome, even. Dark hair and even darker eyes. He looked like an ordinary man. Almost, at least.

He tilted his head at her, taking his time to observe her in return. His gaze wandered over her body, every line of her, taking in her small, fragile form. She was thin, perhaps a bit too thin, the nipples on her small, pert tits making two distinct little peaks under the fabric.

Tawny-blonde hair splayed out on the pillows. Her delicate, exposed throat, the contour of her collarbones, left on display by her off-shoulder dress like a lure set just for him.

She had to resist the urge to pull her hair forward to cover her neck and her shoulders.

He stalked closer, watching her little chest rise and fall in a panicked rhythm. She was terrified of him, he could smell it. But curiosity filled her eyes nonetheless.

Another stride forward and he was so very close. With a movement so very slow, he sat on the edge of her bed, beside her, and he raised his hand, stretching out slender fingers. She inhaled sharply as his fingers came to rest gently on the bare skin of her collarbone.

“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?”

He said darkly, reaching over and twirling one of her curls around his finger, watching the way her wide eyes followed his hand. Her eyes fluttered nervously and she took a shuddered breath before speaking. “Yes…”

“Why?” His eyes seemed to bore into her, his hand gently tracing her throat, feeling the hypnotic thrum of her pulse, her blood, so close, just under the skin. He found himself leaning closer, towards the crook of her neck.

“You’re so pretty it’s almost a shame. Why would you invite me in, dove?”

She opened her mouth to speak. But just a frightened little whimper came out. She felt his demeanour shift slightly, as he inhaled her scent, a scent that made his eyes roll back in his head, that made his teeth itch, that sent a deep, complex thrill running through his body.

“Oh…” He let out a delighted chuckle against her skin. “You’re a virgin.”

“Is that good…? Are you pleased? The friar said you would want a virgin-“

He groaned against her neck. “Of course I’m pleased.” He murmured. “In all these years, no one has never offered themselves to me willingly. And you’re simply perfect.”

His thoughts caught up to him briefly and he drew back slightly. “Wait, a priest told you to offer yourself up to a vampire? How delightful!”

He let out a laugh that was all too close to a growl, as he pressed his hand against her hip.

“Yes- the- the whole village did. They pray you will take me, and spare us all from further harm..” she said quietly.

Now he actually did growl. Not a low, dangerous growl, but of satisfaction, the sound of desire finally being fulfilled. “Such delicious sacrifices… it’s almost too good to be true. This village is as foolish as they are cruel.”

He saw her eyes flick down to his mouth as he spoke, no doubt staring at the two sharp points of his fangs her lips parted, a look of quiet disbelief on her face.

“Oh… yes. I have fangs, dove.”

He smiled, slowly, and opened his mouth, running his tongue over the sharp points of his fangs. Her gaze seemed to be glued to the sight. “You’re curious aren’t you?”

She looked over them with fascination, her hand going up almost absentmindedly, her thumb moving to trace the sharp points.

He was surprised at the touch. His fangs were sensitive, and he’d never been touched like this. It almost made him feel a bit dizzy. Despite himself, he let out a quiet moan. He tilted his head towards her touch, his eyelids flickering and his breathing coming a little heavier. He had not had a meal in some time, since no one dared go out at night. And he wanted her, so very much.

He grabbed her wrist quickly, his grip tight, his hand warm and firm as he pulled her hand away.

“Careful, dove. Those were made for ripping.”

The firmness of his own hand took him by surprise, but he stilled his racing pulse with deep breaths. It was difficult, trying not to overpower her so quickly. He gently placed her hand back against the pillow, caressing her wrist with his thumb.

“Don’t be so frightened. you will not die tonight.”

She let out a relieved breath she didn’t know she was holding, her eyes closing as she relaxed into the bed, letting out a little whine.

“That’s it…”

He leaned over her, moving atop her, his legs straddling her small form. His lips finding the skin just below her jaw, under her ear.

“Just relax for me…”

She had started to sob lightly. Her doll-like stillness faded to something more human as she melted into the bed, muttering her thanks to god under her breath.

He chuckled at her prayers, the sound rich with sadistic delight. He placed a gentle kiss on her throat. “Hush now. There’s no need for tears. No need to thank God either. Perhaps he has answered your prayers once, pretty thing, but he won’t answer them again.”

One strong hand moved up, gently encircling her throat, her pulse thudding against his palm, the scent of her blood filling his senses.

She let out a little whine.

“Shhh…”

His lips, still so very gentle, found the crook of her neck, right over her pulse.

“You’re doing so well, sweet girl. I’ve met so very many humans, and very few of them could ever stay still at a touch, or trust their body to a vampire.”

“Will it hurt..?” She asked, her voice meek and uncertain. Her hands rested back either side of her head, against her soft hair, and she looked like a vision, and he wanted to drown in her.

“It will… a bit. I can’t say I know how much it will hurt, I’ve never been bitten. It’s my understanding that it’s not so bad. Especially the way in which I plan to do it.”

He continued to trail kisses up her neck, his hips shifting slightly. One knee coming between her legs, parting them. His hand left her neck, instead roaming her side, stopping as he reached the side of her dainty, pert breast, his thumb skimming over her hardened nipple. He groaned against her skin, his whole body aching with something like pain. He had been so hungry. And it had been so hard to feed, with everyone hidden away. And now he had her beneath him, not a whore, or a drunkard, but a true delicacy. It was all too beautiful, too pleasing for his starved mind.

“Can I taste you, sweet girl?”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, the expression on his face was unlike anything she had ever seen before. In his wild eyes there was something that appeared almost reverent. Almost like he was praying. She was confused. He had asked her? Despite the corpses. The victims left in the night. He had asked her so sweetly.

The way he was touching her, and the way he was looking at her like that, like she was some deity; it made her feel warm. An unfamiliar warmth that rose in her body, and made her legs shift slightly, and made it so easy to let the word slip from her lips. “Yes.”

Her word sent a new kind of thrill through his body. Yes.

He could taste the word, feel the texture of it against his fangs. He had to close his eyes. A deep, low, guttural moan escaped him, almost mirroring her relief from before, like he was letting out a breath he had been holding too long.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He murmured, almost to himself, caressing her face gently. “An angel, offering her blood to a monster.”

As he opened them again, his eyes darkened, the pupils dilating, small dark veins appearing under his eyes. His lips parted, and his fangs were extended more than before. His voice was low, and gentle, but firm as he spoke.

“Bare your throat for me.”

She hesitated at the sight of his eyes. The strange, sinister way they shifted. He sensed her unease, and leaned over her, placing a line of kisses below her jawline, gently encouraging her to tilt her head.

“It’s alright. I told you. I will not kill you. It would be such a waste.”

She slowly let her head roll back. Her eyes still glassy from the tears before. A tiny part of her enjoyed just giving over control. Feeling so small in his grasp. And she didn’t know why, but his hands and his words and his weight atop her made her ache, filled her with an unfamiliar yearning.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He could hear every single sound she let out then. The slightest hitch in her breathing, the quickening thrum of her heart. He could taste her fear, but there was another scent, another feeling growing there as well. He was certain she didn’t know it was there. She didn’t know what she was feeling.

She felt his teeth against her skin then, the points just gently resting, waiting for her to settle before pushing down. He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing, his breath hot on the cold night air.

Everything was still, and the air was thick with want, and lust, and anticipation.

Slowly, with a delicate care, he pushed his fangs into her neck. Her skin broke, and she felt the strangest sensation of being punctured, and a strangely satisfying sting. He pressed down, more pressure than she was expecting, drawing a gasp from her, and she could feel his tongue, rough and hot against her skin. He was sucking the blood from the wound, his lips working against her neck. Then, she She felt the vibration in her skin as he moaned, of pure bliss, of relieved pleasure, and it was the strangest, most erotic thing she had ever felt. The sharpness in her neck, the warmth of him, the way he was sucking, in long, dragging pulls, how his knee pressed between her legs, his hand on her chest almost engulfing her entirely.

She found herself arching back slightly, her head pushing back, as if she were held up by only his teeth, and the wonderful pulling sensation. Her hands found the sheets, clutching them desperately so as not to float away completely. Her quiet, shuddered whimpers giving him a deep, primal thrill.

One of his hands found hers, clutching it, his string fingers wrapping around hers, as he let out another pleasured groan.

And then all at once, she felt lightheaded. She tried desperately to focus, as he had said, to keep breathing but there was a strange buzzing in her ears and her eyes were going dark. In her panicked state, she reached up, her free hand grabbing the back of his head, tugging at his hair.

Her hand tugging weakly at his hair drew his attention, and he immediately pulled back. Licking the blood from his lips that was still so hot, he pulled back and looked at her.

He took a moment to gather himself, trying not to let his eyes roll into the back of his head. He groaned, and cleared his throat, squeezing her hand as he spoke, a lot more raspy and uncertain as he had forced himself to stop.

“It’s alright, it’s over. It’s alright.”

Her gaze was unfocused, but he could still see the shock and the lingering feeling of blissful pleasure. He chuckled, a deep, disbelieving chuckle.

“Christ, you’re fucking delicious.”

He gently tilted her head aside, his eyes going over the two puncture wounds he had made in her neck. They filled him with a deep satisfaction.

He could see her eyes grow heavy. Her body relaxing. He watched her carefully. He would keep his word. She wouldn’t die.

“That’s it darling, close your eyes. Rest, you’ve given me such a gift.”

He gently caressed her cheek, his touches still as gentle as before, almost reverent. Even with the thick scent of blood in the air, he was feeling oddly peaceful. He stayed like that, waiting until she was asleep, before he let go of her hand, moving off of her, to lay beside her. For some reason, he wanted to stay.

He knew that it wasn’t normal for a monster to be so gentle with its food, he knew it wasn’t normal to find a strange comfort in the company of a human. It was probably just the pleasure and the warm thrill of the feed running through him. That was what he would tell himself.