Disgusting little blurb inspired by my monthly suffering...
In the modern day, you've tried everything that is available to deal with menstruation. Pads chaffe, tampons cause cramps, taking birth control pills constantly to completely avoid having a period all together caused intense anxiety, to the point you couldn't leave the house some days. Free-bleeding was messy and got everywhere. Then you discovered cups. And they worked. Soft, body-safe silicone that could be easily inserted to collect the blood, and removed with minimal mess when it was full (with some practice).
Then you meet your vampire lover. He's older, like a few centuries older. But mentally, he's still the same age when he was turned, 38. Which works, you're in your thirties, he is too, he's just been 38 since 1708.
Now, menstruation and the shame of women's bodies has come (sort of) a long way, and is no longer (not really) demonized. Women and uterus-havers are more open and free with their bodily functions. And so are you. In your thirties, you've come to realise that a body is a body, and they can be gross sometimes. You've healed from your shame and guilt of existing as woman.
Or so you thought.
It starts like usual.
Fun fact about vampires, they do sleep. Not in coffins, either. Felix is curled around you in bed, hugging you to his warm chest under the blankets. He's got his arm wrapped around your waist and stomach, hand placed right where your uterus would be, cupping the skin. It's telling, in a way, that even in his sleep, he can sense the impending doom radiating from your lower stomach.
You wake, a feeling seeping into your mind. Something is not right. You feel almost too sweaty, the skin between your thighs is slippery. And the you feel it ooze out of you. No way to stop the flow, no amount of clenching your pelvic floor will stop the blood from seeping out. You are very aware of your predicament. To avoid getting blood everywhere, and potentially sending Felix into a frenzy, you plot your next moves very carefully.
First, you pry his arm off your body. There is some resistance, and you know you have maybe a half a second before it clamps back around you once you let it go.
Second, you plot your exact route to the adjoining bathroom suite. It's a couple meters away, so it's going to be tight. You have the advantage of fat thighs, so you won't have to worry about clenching them. It's more so the sprint-jumo you make out of bed that sees the blood getting on to the carpet. Thank God you listened to your instincts and went with the darker one.
With as much speed as you can muster so early in the morning, you're quick to pry yourself free from Felix and make a mad dash to the bathroom. No time for propriety, closing the door only serves to slow you down. Once seated on the toilet, you assess the damage. Thighs are smeared with blood. Your night shorts are soaked in blood. The cramps only waited until you were conscious to start up.
You haven't had time to sanitize your cups. A small stash of emergency pads, panty liners and tampons sit under the sink, but you are unwilling to use them.
Felix comes into the bathroom after you. He's still werry with sleep, hair moused and eyes squinted. You see the moment his sensitive nose catches the overpowering scent of blood. His eyes widen ans pupils dilate so rapidly, you wonder if it hurts him. His boxers tent.
"That time already?" The question is asked through clenched teeth. You nod.
"Can you go boil my cups?" The thing about Felix that weirds you out the most is not his age, his disposition, or the consumption of blood required to sustain his body. No, it's the way he acquires said blood.
Felix has a liking for your blood. Not unusual, seeing as many lovers of vampires tend to also be their sustenance, but he prefers to take a more "vegan" approach. You regret the day you explained what "vegan" means. Felix, your lovely, 350-year-old partner likes to drink your period blood. And only your period blood.
He uses the menstrual cups like fucking shot glasses. It irks you sometimes, but vampires only need to feed every few weeks. Felix just indulges heavily the week he feeds. Which is when you bleed.
His logic is sound; it's the only method of acquiring blood that doesn't actively harm you. And your body's getting rid of it anyway, why not just kill two birds with one stone?
From his spot at the bathroom door, he nods hesitantly. When you glare at him, he scurries away to do as you asked. With him occupied, you have an opportunity to shower off the blood while the cups sanitize. You know he'll try to swindle his way into joining you, but you know (from many previous instances) that you'll end up pressed against the shower wall with him kneeling between your legs, water bill climbing higher by the second. He spends hours, actual hours, between your legs. Off and on your period, Felix has had 300 ish years to refine his skilled talents. He was a munch before he got turned, now he's immortal and can eat box for eternity is he so chooses.
And he has. "What is life, but the pursuit of ecstasy and pleasure? Why should I waste my time trying to hunt for food, when I can woo pretty women and dine on their succulent juices instead?" - a direct quote from his diary, 200 years ago. A poet, folks. We have a poet on our hands.
Felix is a man with many talents, but subtlety is not one of them. You can practically sense him, vibrating from excitement at the door to the bathroom. He won't pass the threshold, but he will stand there and wait until you (hopefully) call him in. You don't.
The pot finishes boiling, the cups are sanitized. He brings them to you dutifully.
It's only when you're exiting the shower, water turned off, that you allow him into the space. It smells like steam and hot blood, even you can smell it. His eyes are fully black, fangs descended from their hiding place, cock fully flagged and ready to go.
"Can I have a taste now?" It's less of a question for permission, and more of warning that if you say no, he might jump on you.
You drop the towel to the floor. Felix sets the bowl of hot water on the floor by the door, then he's on his knees with your legs fully over his shoulders.
Super strength is something all vampire movies and books get right. It's honestly surprising, even after a year, that Felix is capable of holding all your weight up without ever breaking a sweat. And trust, you are a woman most men can't handle.
Good thing Felix isn't really a "man" anymore. Right now, he'd be considered a beast the way he's eating you out.
He moans when use his face to get off. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and grinding your face against the strong nose adorning his face. He's just got a face that screams "sit on me". Pouty lips, big nose, hair that's the perfect length for grabbing and pulling.
You're there for so long, you've completely air dried by the time he surfaces. Another thing some of the vampire media has gotten right (Twilight) is that vampires don't need oxygen to survive. Which is both terrible and great.
Felix's face is covered in your blood. Somehow, he's got it in his hair. He let's you go, and you snag the cup and get it up in you.
"Lick me clean. I don't want another shower, and you've made a mess of me."
Felix visibly cums in his pants (again. There is a very large wet spot with a distinct milky colour to it) and complies.
"Yes ma'am." You get another climax out of it, and Felix cleans you off.
"Good boy." You pat his head and tell him to wash his face.
...
Later in the day, it's been a few hours since the morning fiasco.
You get up from your comfy spot on the couch. You can feel the blood that's gathered sloshing around. From his spot, resting on your stomach, Felix can too.
He follows you to the bathroom. You get into the shower, panties off, and dislodge the cup from your yoni. (A/N recently learned that "vagina" means "swords sheath", so effective immediately, I am switching to "yoni" which means "source" in Sanskrit.)
You hand the cup, filled with your period blood, to your lover. And watch in mild disgust as he downs it like a shot. And then licks it clean.
"What makes period blood taste so much better than regular blood?" You ask, sat on the toilet now. Felix is sitting in front of you on the floor. (He refuses to leave you alone when you're on your cycle.)
"Tastes less like blood and more like life? I don't know. I do know that it's natural, and maybe because I'm considered "an act against god", I want to be closer to the natural world? As much as physically possible at least."
Later, when you're both back on the couch, wrapped up in blankets watching the Twilight movies for nth time, he pipes up again.
"I feel better when I drink it." You pause the movie and turn to look at him.
"Like when you eat healthier foods and say you feel more energized. When I drank human blood, or animal blood, there was always a pain attached to it. Sometimes it was consensual, but there was still like thos lingering bitterness to it. It didn't fully satisfy. Not until I started drinking menstrual blood, have my energy levels improved. I feel better, I think more clearly. I'm not overcome by insatiable bloodlust and the desire to feed. I'm not starving in between feeds."
"Well, with how much you eat, I wouldn't be surprised."
"But it's not the frequency or amount. When I was a fledgling, the first time I ate a woman's quim and she just so happened to get her monthlies during the act, I left that interaction with more energy and purpose than I'd felt. Even as a man, before the turn, I'd never felt so good."
...
Anyways...
Hope you pervs liked it.
