I awoke to the distinct sound of wings flapping outside my window. I sat up slowly as
my eyes adjusted to the dark of my room, utterly terrified of what I might see. As I sat
motionless against my headboard, my eyes scanned the expanse of the room, the shadows playing
eerily on the crimson-hued walls. Nothing. I settled back down and, as sleep began to overtake
me once again, I thought I heard it again. I willed myself back to sleep, safe in the notion that it
was only an owl or some other nocturnal bird outside my window. Somewhere between
wakefulness and dream, I felt him.
Moist lips, soft as fine talc, pressed gently to mine. I yielded and my own lips parted as if
in a dream. A slender tongue snaked its way across mine. He tasted warm; an exotic blend of
cinnamon, ginger and honey filled my mouth. The sweet, syrupy liqueur seeped down into my
throat, calming my fear as it stirred desire from deep within me. I began to kiss him in return;
my tongue slid along the sharp edges of his teeth as his nectar slowed to a trickle. I whimpered
softly, realizing that I now craved it. He pulled away and I was able to see the beauty above me.
His body hovered over my bed; its lithe, delicate shape was the color of cinnamon - an
earthy red, tinted with gold and brown, only visible when the light hit it at just the right angle.
The muscles of his body were framed by sensual curves, and he seemed to be no taller than my
own height of 5'5". His ivory hair blew slightly in the breeze circulated by my ceiling fan. It had
the appearance of fine antique lace, so delicate that it would crumble under the weight of a
feather. His eyes were the color of vermillion, bright red pools that seemed to gaze through me
as much as they did at me. He smiled softly and bent his head down to kiss me again. As he
neared my lips, I noticed what was causing the flapping noise: two large wings on his back. They
were the same cinnamon color as the rest of his body, and closely resembled the wings of a bat.
They undulated slowly, stirring the warming air around us.
His long, slender fingers caressed my cheek, moved down my throat, and over my chest.
His lips lingered over mine, not quite kissing me, and he whispered, “be still, and don’t fear me.
I only wish to make love to you, and I only ask for your release.” I nodded, as my words seemed
to catch in my throat before I could speak them. He ran his fingertips over the soft, light brown
hair on my belly, following the thin line down slowly to my newly awakened cock. His slender,
gingery fingers curled around it and he slowly moved his hand up and down, coaxing me to full
hardness. I thought he would stop as soon as I was hard, but he didn’t. His vermillion eyes
burned with an inner fire, watching my face and gauging my reactions as he milked my cock with
agonizing strokes. I raised my hips to meet his hand as I neared orgasm, but he stopped and
removed his hand slowly. “Not yet,” he whispered.
His wings undulated and rolled like smooth ocean waves as he came down to rest over
my body, his cinnamon hue a sharp contrast to my own pale flesh. He was nude and his cock
rested against mine, slowly growing from the close contact. He stroked the side of my face
lightly, and I gently sucked two of his fingers into my mouth. He skin was smooth, free of any
blemishes, and had a faint gingery taste to it. He pulled his fingers slowly out, running them over
my lips before sliding his body up mine. He sat on my chest and I realized that he was nearly
weightless, even with his wings down and still. The head of his long, slender cock was an inch
from my lips and I flicked it lightly with the tip of my tongue. He moved up, and the head of his
cock slipped between my waiting lips. His wings fluttered softly as he slipped all the way in and
he moaned, his face and hands pressed against the crimson wall above my headboard. I wrapped
my arms around his waist and my hand brushed the bottom of a wing. He groaned and pressed
deeper into my throat. Realizing that his wings were as sensitive as his cock, I traced the thin,
veiny lines that ran their length. I heard him gasp from the touch, and he began to slid his body
back and forth, his cock pumping slowly in and out of my mouth. His body stiffened as my
hands caressed his wings and my mouth milked his cock; he was close, and I wondered what he
would taste like. Seconds later, he came, filling my mouth with the same exotic blend as before.
I drank it hungrily, not wanting it to stop. He slid back down my body, shaking and weak, and
collapsed on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, his wings folded gently under the
weight.
He raised his head, the red of his eyes slightly dulled but still fierce, and whispered, “that
was never supposed to happen.” I looked at him, confused at his quiet admission. He must have
read my mind. “I cannot harm anyone, but what I take eventually drains a person of life,” he
whispered, pressing his face against my collarbone. “By drinking from me in such a way that
you just did, I began to pass what I am to you.” I blinked, trying to grasp what he was saying. It
was all a riddle to me, as I had no clue what he was to begin with. I felt a single tear roll down
over my shoulder. “I will die, and you will take my place. Please don’t let me die alone.” I felt
the pain of loss well up inside me.
I stroked his fragile, white hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He raised his head again,
gazing into my eyes. His smile was soft and full of longing. “I promise, you won’t die alone,” I
said as I kissed his lips. He returned the kiss with more tenderness than I had ever felt. I knew,
from somewhere deep in my soul, that nothing could save this beautiful creature now. I kissed
him, wanting as much of him in me as I could get.
He pulled away from the kiss, a look of resolve and peace settling on his face. “I will
die, and nothing can change that. But, please, let me feel you before I go.” He slid down and
straddled my lap, causing my cock to revive despite the sorrow I felt. He slipped down on top of
it, impaling himself in one slow motion. The feeling was like nothing that I had ever
experienced. My cock was enveloped by what felt like a warm liquid as he began to move back
and forth, grinding himself against me. I gripped his hips and raised mine to meet his
movements. Within seconds, I filled him with my cum, feeling it swirl in the liquid around my
cock. He collapsed down on my chest again, and his frail body barely moved.
“What’s your name?” I had to know, even if he was going to leave me.
“Cinnamon,” he said smiling. He slowly faded away, leaving my arms empty, but my
soul comforted. He was still with me. I breathed heavy as the tears inevitably began to fall. I sat
up in bed and caught a glance of myself in the mirror. With one liquid motion, the wings spread
open, and I knew what I had to do.