Over the next few months Stacy began to lose weight. A dramatic amount as she poured her attentions into learning about nutrition and exercise. But she did not seek treatment for the abuse she’d endured as a child. She thought she could deal with that on her own, without input from anyone else. She didn’t even tell John about the nightmares that plagued her, the darkness she hid deep within her soul, though he saw it.

She cleaned out all of the junk food, seeking healthy alternatives to the sweets and carbohydrates she’d filled her life with. As she lost weight, John took her to London and Manchester to buy new clothes. He didn’t care that she needed new clothes almost every month; he wanted to mark each milestone for her. He was going to take her to Paris when she lost 10 stone. That was their deal. She did the work, he rewarded her.

She felt better, she could breathe and she wasn’t waddling anymore. Even her sleep improved as the sleep apnoea that had plagued her for years disappeared with the weight. She gained a new confidence as her face and limbs emerged from layers of weight and fluid. Lesions that had marred her skin healed and she learned that she enjoyed the endorphins exercise brought her much more than the sugar high of chocolate cake. Everything about her life was improving and she felt true happiness for the first time in her life.

She changed her clothing style as she changed on the inside, replacing black tents for shape-fitting, colourful pastels; not wanting to blend into the background anymore. John encouraged her to go out into the world; enjoying her tales of joining a gym and how she fell the first time she got on a treadmill but then got right back on it. She told him about the book club she’d joined and how she had laughed about their vampire book obsession. If they’d only known, she told him with a conspiratorial wink.

They spent their evenings, when he wasn’t at work, exploring the area around them; even in the dark the moors were a treat to explore. They found restaurants with healthy menus and Stacy learned to appreciate food for what it was, nourishment and fun, but not a replacement for love.

They fell in love with each other, with the way they changed each other. John could see the darkness leaving Stacy, a lightness coming into her soul, shedding light on all of the recesses, the things she’d hidden. He felt delighted when she got out an easel and bought painting supplies, painting pictures of the moors at night that were almost lifelike. She painted one of him as well, draped across a couch with a throw across his midsection, nude everywhere else.

She studied the lines of his body, noticing that he apparently covered himself entirely with the self-tanner because she saw no pale sections at all on his body. Her eyes studied him critically, seeing not an ounce of fat, only muscles and hard lines. He was beautiful in every way and she wanted to please him the same way.

“That’s not what I want from you Stacy. I want you happy. If that means you stop now, never lose another pound, that’s fine with me. You know that.”

“You’re reading my mind again, John, I thought we’d talked about that.” She said, tapping the painting with her paint brush.

“We did but sometimes it comes through anyway. I can’t always stop it, you know that. But I do think you’re beautiful now. I love the curves you have, the beauty of your cheeks, rounded and full, not blades that look like they could cut glass and not hidden away anymore. The flush on your cheeks now is a healthy glow, not from over-exertion. You are beautiful darling and I love you. All of you.”

Stacy stopped cold, the brush skittering across the painting, a burgundy stripe now marring the throw he had over his hips. She stepped out from behind the easel, looking at him. She crooked an eyebrow questioningly and then stepped back to the painting, needing a moment.

“You love me?” she asked him.

“Yes, I do. I love you deeply, completely, wholly.”

“No, you can’t. We’ve done all of these things to change me and yet you still go home every evening, to drink from someone else, to fill a need you can’t control.”

“We can work on me later; I have an eternity to sort my own issues. Come here, please, let me touch you. I love your skin; it just glows with health now.”

Moving to sit beside John, because she could do things like that now she was slimmer, she reached over him, taking his hand to place it against her cheek. She loved him, as well, but she still held back, still too afraid. Her father had told her no man would ever love her; that she was too useless. The words stung now, even though they were only a memory. She’d believed the words then and though she knew she was what she made herself to be, she believed them as they replayed in her mind now.

Turning away from him she heard the song playing, a song of loss and love and wondered how long before the words proved true for her as well. A tear slid past her eyelids, now highlighted with makeup that brought out their beauty, a tear she tried to hold back. She quickly brushed it away, wanting to hide the tears from John.

He touched her face, turning the visage he adored above all other to face him. She opened her eyes, trying to blink the tears away. She didn’t want him to see the weakness she still tried to hide. She had allowed the little girl out of the darkness, but sometimes she still revelled in the shadows.

John pulled her face down to his, slowly, wanting to let her pull away if she chose to. He had not attempted to kiss her before. He’d only wanted her friendship; he’d promised and so had waited, hoping she would come to him. He was tired of waiting, though; he wanted to taste the sweet plump lips that beckoned to him with every word she spoke. He’d had fantasies about her lips, fantasies he could not get out of his head.

As she closed the distance he felt a thrill radiate from his centre, casting warmth throughout his body. He hadn’t felt warm in centuries. She’d brought him that feeling. A fire burned through him as her lips touched his, feeling her confidence grow as his tongue played over hers. His hand cupped her face, caressing her cheek with smooth strong fingers. The thought came clear to him, his fingers elsewhere, everywhere on her as she writhed in pleasure. He smiled as he realized they were her thoughts, not his own.

She looked at him, seeing the passion in his eyes, the need he felt for her. She moved, straddling him with her much slimmer legs, letting herself sink down onto his hips, feeling the hardness of his cock through the blanket covering him. She groaned as the length of him pressed against her pussy through the blanket. She was wearing a wrap skirt and she’d hiked it around her hips when she’d moved over him. She hadn’t worn any knickers today, enjoying the rebellion of not wearing them. All that separated them was the silky fleece of the expensive blanket he’d brought her to watch movies under one night, when she’d been suffering a cold. Moving on him she wondered if she should find a condom.

“There’s no need for them, I can’t produce children and I’m immune to all diseases, so you’re safe.”

“Oh, I’m sure any man would say that if he thought he could get away with it.” She swatted his chest as she spoke.

“No,” he laughed, seriously, “I can’t get ill or produce children. It’s a product of being a vampire.”

“Right, well then. No need to worry about it then.” She went back to moving, following the rhythm of a sultry, sexy song now playing on the radio. His hands moved over her, touching her breasts, her aching breasts that needed to be free. She pulled her shirt over her head, removed her bra and let him see this part of her. The stretch marks that marred her skin were embarrassing but she was proud that she had them; they meant she’d worked hard to look like that. At some point she’d have it all fixed surgically, if she could afford it, but for now they were badges of pride, every single line marring her flesh.

John helped her to feel that way, his gaze sweeping over her, loving every bit of her, whether she considered it an imperfection or not. This woman with a child caged inside her aching and hurting, had opened herself finally. She wasn’t looking down on John with shame; she was free and happy in her nudity. She undid the skirt, flinging it away with a laugh. She could move now, she could sit here, on top of him without worrying about crushing him, she could breathe, she could live for the first time in her life. This wasn’t going to be a drunken coupling, performed in the dark with shame and a desire to only get it over with.

Stacy moved, wanting to taste his flesh. She let her full lips glide along his throat, breathing hotly against his neck. She slid her tongue out, letting it play over a nipple until he gasped sharply. John may not need to breathe, but his reactions were instinctual. He needed air now! Moving to the other one, she felt his fingers tense as the nipple tightened under her attention, sucking it between her lips before sliding a hand under the blanket.

He stilled her hand, wanting her to be sure. He looked at her face, into her eyes and saw only desire. He let her hand go and watched as her mouth followed, her red lips moving down his hipline, tickling him with her hair as she moved. He gasped when her mouth moved over his hard cock, closing over it. He felt the warm, wet heat of her mouth, the gentle scrape of her teeth and let his head fall back, still watching but helpless to hold his head up.

She sucked him, hard, letting her mouth glide wetly over his shaft, sucking on the head as it left her mouth with a pop. Taking him in hand she moved back down, letting him enter her throat and stretch it before swallowing, letting her neck muscles massage him. John’s hips pushed up then, wanting to go deeper still. He buried his hands in her hair, holding her still as he fucked her throat, amazed at how much of him she took. He wasn’t a small man and what she was doing took some skill.

“Fuck, Stacy, don’t make me cum in your throat, I’m not ready for this to be over yet.” His movements belied his words; he kept thrusting, getting closer and closer as she continued to swallow him. He tried to hold back, gritting his teeth against the pleasure but he could not stop his hips, could not stop the pleasure. His head was full of her, the feel of her mouth, her scent, her touch and feel. When the explosion came she swallowed every bit of his cum, humming against his cock in contentment. She wanted his seed; she wanted to swallow every inch of him. She kept sucking, hoping to extend the pulsing that passed through him as he emptied himself in her mouth. His thrusts slowed, his hands relaxed in her hair and he exhaled slowly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Stacy, but that was great!”

Stacy smiled, pleased that she’d taken his control for a moment and drove him over the edge in a way. She wanted to know she could take his control; it made her feel powerful, if only sexually and momentarily.

“It’s alright, John, as long as that doesn’t mean you’re going to fall asleep on me now.” She laughed, knowing what his reply was going to be.

“I never sleep, baby, so prepare for an onslaught. I doubt you will be falling asleep anytime tonight. I am going to turn you inside out.”

He pulled her up, carrying to her bedroom then dropping her with a laugh on the bed.

“Let me look at you.” He said with a smile.

He gazed down at her, allowing his fingers to flow from her now visible collar bone, down her breasts tipped with dark red nipples, almost obscene in their colour but oh so sexy, he told her. Down her rounded tummy and hips covered in the proof of her struggle. Not all of the marks were stretch marks, some were healed scars from being kicked, pinched, burned and tortured by her father. She let him look his fill, knowing that he did not judge her. He knew what she’d come from to look as she did now. Her struggle had been long and hard, still continued, but she was proud of what she’d become.

He let his fingers dip into her pussy, spreading the opening he found there to look at her deeply, leaning over to smell and taste her. Heat filled his body again, something only she could produce and as his tongue found her clit, the heat exploded, flowing throughout every inch of his body. Warmth, blessed vital warmth that he hadn’t felt in 500 years, spread all over him. The heat did not become unbearable, only more pleasurable as her happiness grew.

John teased her and she could feel his mouth, hot and wet, moving over her, devouring her. She looked at the ceiling but did not see it, she only felt him there, on her, doing things to her, producing a deep pleasure she’d never felt before.

“You are delicious darling; I never want to move away from your pussy. I want to sit here the rest of my life, sucking your pussy until you scream.”

“Oh, please, don’t stop!” For once she didn’t stumble over her words; she knew exactly what she wanted.

“Make me cum, John; I want to cum all over your face. Please, use your fingers too. Whatever you want, wherever you want. I just need to cum.” Her need was driving, burning through her, making her move restlessly on the bed. Her hips writhed, leaving the bed, with each swipe of his fingers or tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands until he winced, but she did not stop. She wanted more, needed more. Stacy was keening, her need driving tears to her eyes from frustration.

He stood then, pulling her to the edge of the bed and turning her around. He moved her to a dresser, bracing her against it as he pulled her hips out. John thrust into her pussy hard, leaving gentleness behind. He could feel her need, her desperation and knew that she needed to feel him driving into her, claiming her as his before she’d finish.

He drove into her, a driving force that fuelled her pleasure, but still not enough; he moved his hand around to her clit, flicking the bud until her legs buckled. John held her weight to him, not letting her fall. She finally came, screaming his name as she panted and moved against him, her movement serpentine and beautiful to witness. His pleasure built watching her, listening to her enjoying the maximum of pleasure.

He picked her up as her legs would no longer work and moved her to the bed. He took it slow, letting her rest for a moment before sliding back into her. Stacy gasped; feeling him fill her again was bliss.

“I love you, John.” She whispered to him, not really aware she was speaking.

“I know you do, darling, I love you as well. For now and always. Thick or thin, young or old, I love you.” He continued his rhythm, working to build her back up to the heights of heaven again. His face revealed concentration but not the thoughts in his head, or lack of them rather. He was lost in the feel of her from the inside, the liquid heat of her body thrilled him. It almost burned the heat and when she’d orgasmed, the heat had turned into a light that he knew only he could see. He wanted to experience that again, he only wished he could share it with her.

Stacy moved beneath him, her movements matching his. She never thought she’d ever move like that, so uninhibited and wanton, begging for more with each breath. John felt her tense, a gasped “oh” escaped her lips and she was off again, her body bowing back, her legs clamping around his hips as her nails ground into his shoulders. John followed her, empting his cock into her as her pussy pulsed around him, milking him of every drop he could give her. They both groaned the others’ name, incoherent, unconscious of what they were doing or hearing, but knowing they were melded together, following each other in pleasure.

The pleasure slowed, came to a halt, as they panted together and for the first time in five hundred years, John fell to her side, sleep claiming him as his gift for their efforts. He slept for hours, dreaming of her, of blood and the two mixed together. In her he’d found a refuge, at last and she’d found hers in him. They slept together, tangled in each other, complete.

* * *

“The doctor says I should live a much healthier, longer life now, darling. What great news! He still wants me to keep exercising but my heart is much healthier now than it ever has been. I’ve lost 200 pounds in the last year, and I’m a wonder to him! Oh John, I could not have done any of this without you!”

A year had passed them by, a few months since they’d first made love and Stacy was healthier than she’d ever been. She glowed even more now, confidence filling her face as she bravely went out to work each evening, choosing to work evenings the same as John did, so they could spend time together. She was working with a hospital; training in nursing during the day, working whatever job they’d give her at night. She was so happy she was almost giddy some days. John was happy for her but he was pulling away, just as she had feared he would. She was hoping the news would cheer him, bring him back to her. She could see by his distant look that the ploy had not worked.

“Darling, you have to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t go on like this. You are jeopardizing our relationship now and I simply won’t have it. A year ago I would have just let you walk about but you, us, mean more to me than anything. I can’t afford to lose you so please, tell me what’s wrong. Have I been too successful at this? Have I surpassed your expectations and become too confident?” She looked in the mirror on her bedroom door, studying herself.

Stacy saw that where there used to be a face drowning in a sea of fat there were now features, a pert cute nose, expressive eyes and a mouth John loved sliding his cock into. Her body had thinned down, becoming curvy and sexy, not protruding and bulbous. She actually had an ass now, she could see, not just two huge lumps hanging below her back. Her hair was straight now, cared for and hung down her back. She looked good and she knew it but she wasn’t conceited now, only confident. Maybe he didn’t see it that way though?

“It’s not you Stacy,” John spoke, a strangled sob escaping his throat. Oh fuck, she thought, he’s going to cry, this is serious.

“What’s wrong John? Tell me?” she demanded.

“I need your blood. My donors have disappeared and I need your blood. You’re the only person I know that would allow me to drink from them and not freak out.” He’d never asked before, though she was curious to find out what it felt like. “I don’t know if my maker called them home or if something has happened to them but I’ve not had blood in three weeks now. I’m getting desperate or I wouldn’t ask.”

“Oh,” she said and walked away, to the living room, needing space to think.