My thumb finds your hood and gently pins it back. My tongue flicks at you, teasing, bringing you out. My other hand closes around your slim thigh, holds your leg open. I need you. Need you to feel this. I begin to suck, slow and relentless. You convulse a little under my lips. Electricity sparks across your heart. I breathe through my nose in time with the whirr and thump of the pump’s motor, exchanging fresh blood for the scabby mess that lays prone in your veins. A muscle in your leg jumps as the cardiac pads spill voltage across your chest again. Your soft lips fall open as the electrodes I screwed into your head, under your beautiful hair, shoot current into your brain.
Weeping, I press my mouth to you, fooling myself that I’m not tasting a dead girl.
(Written August 2004. Â© Warren Ellis 2004, 2006)