by Jim Stitzel
She swirled her finger in the glass, then lifted it to his mouth.
"Just a taste, my lover," she crooned.
He parted his lips, tongue sampling the drop as it fell from her fingertip.
"Oh, my god," he breathed. "Amazing."
He closed his eyes, fell back on the pillows, she on top of him. They writhed together, touching, feeling.
"You are my one..." he whispered.
"...my only," she echoed.
Their skin split, bone pushing through flesh, cries of pain and pleasure escaping their torn lips. In moments, the union was complete, the nightmare creature quivering on the floor.
They would always be together.