The Donor to a Vampire (Donor #1)

Chapter 14: Like Your Life Depends On It

Can't you go easy on me?"

Pleading didn't sway my tormentor even for a bloody inch as I fell buttocks first onto the floor swifter than I could say, 'Can I have fries with that?'. Unsurprisingly, the mat would soon bear the permanent imprint of my ass; that's how often I landed on it during The Sessions of Utter Agony, or as Ly liked to call them: sparring. He dragged my hungover self out of bed at the crack of dawn and down to the basement for a training session as if it were forbidden to get any rest after a night of excessive drinking. Ly didn't care that I brought along my nausea, headache, and other bodily aches that I didn't even know could exist. They made themselves known whenever Ly made me perform a movement, throw a punch, or do anything that deviated from my desperate attempt to resemble a stationary ficus plant.

Ly smiled so sweetly; his smile alone would bring peace to the middle east. "Perhaps this is my sweet revenge for all those movies I had to endure." He casually leaned against the wall while I diligently practised my punches on the boxing bag, shouting words at significant volume, not because I couldn't hear him (my hearing was impeccable), but because he knew that in my hungover state, each time he raised his voice, it felt like my head was begging for swift decapitation, longing for an end to his relentless noise. It amused him to see me flinch; my grimace made him chuckle every time.

Should I be concerned that Ly is displaying a preference for sadism?

I gritted my teeth, "That was supposed to be a freebie without strings attached, or did you lie about that?"

"Maybe at first, however, I did see a malevolent smile tugging at the corners of your lips as if you were enjoying my discomfort far more than necessary, " Ly smoothly returned while I pursed my lips.

Busted.

I was already exhausted from the warm-up when Ly approached me, assuming the sparring stance. The sparring itself proved to be the most gruelling aspect of the training. To put it into perspective, I was attempting to fight back, but Ly effortlessly tossed me around as if I were a mere ragdoll. Swinging a left hook at Ly, he moved out of my way with ease and deflected my punch with a swift hand movement. Despite giving it my all, it appeared as though I made no effort to land my punches on him. Unfortunately, my only reward was a nauseating wave, causing me to fear that I might decorate Lys' workout clothes with my puke in a style of Jackson Pollock's paintings.

Before I could gather my bearings and direct my attention to the impending threat, Ly sent me sprawling to the ground with the force of a basketball soaring through a hoop. All my inches of height were defeated by the glory of Lys' strength. The impact with the floor made stars burst before my eyes, and a groan escaped my lips along with a colourful swear word. At that moment, I felt my head was on the verge of self-combustion.

Ly leaned until he was almost nose-to-nose with me, his unique scent wafting over me, "Serves you right for being mean to me throughout the whole process of me trying to digest those horrible Twilight movies. You might want to remember that I can be a very resentful man, Essy."

Expressing my displeasure at his repeated mockery of my new nickname, which he clearly despised, fueled a strong desire within me to deliver a kick that would make Ly sing soprano with the Vienna choir boys for the rest of his life. It was an optimistic daydream; however, as my attempted retaliation would undoubtedly result in my defeat, it left me sprawled on the mattress floor while he mocked me.

After my initial response to puke, pass out and die (in that exact order) had subsided, I became painfully aware of Lys' body draped over mine, leaving nothing to the imagination. A tightness appeared at the apex of my legs. As his mischievous grin slowly faded, his eyes, with a tinge of yellow amidst the violet, shifted away from mine and fixated upon my parched lips as I moistened them with a quick swipe of my tongue. Our chests brushed against each other, the warmth of our connection seeping into our skin with every deep breath. Despite the pounding headache, a primal and usually dormant part of my brain urged me to initiate a kiss that could lead to further pleasurable indulgences. However, more pressing matters demanded my immediate attention.