Gabriel

Greensboro, flourishing with over 20 stores, five saloons, and a boarding house, provided me with a steady practice. My office in town for about four years earned me the people's trust and some friends. My position granted me knowledge of everyone's personal lives, willingly or not. Rumors circulated about a famous author, Mr. Bauchman, who bought a horse ranch outside town. It was said he was a widower from a wealthy English family.

June days were scorching, and this morning is no exception. I open my office door around nine, welcoming the fresh breeze into the reception area. The downtown area buzzes with activity. My typical days involve tending to wounds and stitching cuts, armed with a selection of medicines and herbal remedies, including treatments from Romania that my mother used.

The distant rumble of the horses and carriage reached my ears about two miles before they reached town. It wasn't until the carriage turned down Main Street that I could listen to the conversation. Men were inside the carriage with a young lady, and one or two men were driving the horses.

A female voice worriedly asks, "Oh, Daddy, please tell me Winter will be alright."

A male voice reassures her, saying, "Hush, baby, they are tending to the horse; my only concern is for you."

It was silent until they were at my front door. An extremely tall and muscular Native American man around 6'5 inches, possibly taller, was carrying a petite female, her bright red hair cascading over his massive arms. A redhead squat sort of man was trailing behind him.

This man was probably the girl's father; they both had the same bright red hair. He appeared to be in his late 30s, with glasses and flushed cheeks.

"You, Sir, are you the town physician?"!

I nod at him and head toward the back of my office, where my exam room is located, ushering the group with me.

Her father says, "My daughter Anastasia was thrown off her horse after a snake spooked it."

"Was she bit? "

"No, just the horse and we are not sure if it got bit; it got frightened and threw Anastasia off." Her father looks at the Native American man for confirmation, then he removes a heavy woven cloth from the girl as the tall man lays her on the exam table.

Then, I saw the girl's swollen and slightly twisted leg. I cut her pants leg off what I was sure were expensive handmade leather riding pants. Her boots had already been removed, but she still had socks on. As I unveiled her leg, I saw the purple and blue discoloration had already started, and her entire calf was swelling.

"I'm very sorry, Miss; this will hurt a bit."

The moment I catch sight of her eyes, the intensity of them hits me with more force than any punch ever could.  A sensation within takes hold of me as if I am on fire from within. Each moment, our eyes gaze at one another, igniting and smoldering. I tried to focus; she was looking at me clearly in pain, and tears were already staining her cheeks.

I move to my cabinets, retrieving morphine tablets. Walking over to her, trying not to make direct eye contact. My body is still warm. This is unlike anything I've ever felt.

I tell her, "Put one of these under your tongue; it will help with the pain."

As I carefully examine her leg, starting from her foot and working my way up to her calf, she winces in pain. Noticing a slight protrusion of her tibia. The bone is at an abnormal angle I continue the assessment, checking her knee and thigh. Apologizing, I place my hands on her hips to ensure stability.

"It appears she's broken her tibia bone—a rather nasty break. I should be able to set it and prevent permanent damage, but I'll have to wait for the tablet to take effect."

I directed the father to the waiting area and asked the Native American man, Mr. TallTree, to assist by holding her upper leg still when I set it. He nods and moves to her side and she asks him, "John, do you think Winter is okay?"

The massive man reassures her. "She should be okay. Joe and Alma are caring for her; if she is bitten, they know how to heal snake bites. Ana, you worry about healing now. Winter will be okay. I promise,Yázhí  tááʼyaʼniiltʼóshii."

She seems to relax, finally succumbing to the effects of the morphine after his comforting words.

"You call her little cardinal; is that because of her red hair?

Mr. TallTree simply looks at me, his face showing no change in emotion. Quickly, I think it is best to change the subject.

"The girl seems very fond of you, Mr. TallTree. How long have you worked for them, if you don't mind my asking?"

I motion for him to place one hand on her thigh and one on her knee. After aligning the bones, I position her foot and ankle, preparing for the risky procedure.

As I pull her leg back into alignment, a small portion of her bone cuts her skin, causing her to scream in pain before falling unconscious. An unexpected reaction occurs; her blood's scent captivates me, and I struggle to focus; my mouth waters and my fangs press against my gums. I have not had problems with blood for many years. Working as a doctor on the battlefield and in operating rooms for decades has desensitized me. I'm completely perplexed. Regardless, I finish setting her leg, aligning it well, and bracing it with wooden splints.

Trying to distract myself from the intoxicating scent, I turn to Mr. Tall Tree and ask, "So, I've been here in this town for several years, and I don't think I've ever seen you before; are you from this area?"

The giant man brushes the girl's hair from her face and then starts explaining his long-standing connection to the Bauchman family.

"No, my mother, sister, and I have always been with the Bauchman family. We are treated like family. We all do something around the ranch: cooking, sewing, cleaning, and tending to daily tasks. My sister Dove is just a few years older than Anastasia, and we've watched them grow up like sisters. My mother says Dove and Ana are adasdiyisdi unadadosdi, which means.

"Same as sisters. Is that correct?"

He looks at me, cocks an eyebrow, and nods yes. Then, with a very suspicious expression, he says, "Most white men do not speak my language, but you are not most men, are you, Dr. White?"

I chuckle at his statement and try to change the topic as I care for the girl's leg.

"So, do you think her horse was bitten? We have a vet here in town if needed."

He doesn't respond; he only nods. He senses something about me, but I remain calm. I have never been one to associate with my kind, but I know they cannot go into the sun, and blood is a necessity. I enjoy the daylight, and now, after many years, I require very little blood. I clean up, burning the rag with her blood, and I walk toward her father.

"Miss Anastasia won't be waking up anytime soon. She should sleep at least six hours, and she'll need more pain medicine. I advise that you head home; I'll watch over her tonight, and you can return tomorrow morning to check on her."

Mr. Bauchman sticks his hand out, takes mine in a firm handshake, and tells me, "I don't know what we'd do without you. My baby might never walk right again, or worse, I will bring my payment tomorrow morning first thing."

I smile at him as I shake his hand and pat him on the shoulder.

"Why don't you visit with her before you leave? I'm not worried about payment, sir."

They return to the room with Anastasia, and her father whispers to his daughter.

"Ana, my baby, it's Daddy, and I'm going to head home, but I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning, my angel."

He kisses her cheek, and she stirs just a bit and falls asleep again. I observe Mr. TallTree touching her hand and saying a Navajo prayer as he walks out of the room cautiously, as if not to wake her. I reassure them not to worry and to get some rest.

After they leave, I return to Anastasia and check that she is sound asleep, and once I'm confident she is, I unwrap her wound and prick my finger, allowing three tiny drops of blood to fall into her injury. I'm cautious, only giving a small enough amount to heal her bones entirely, and possibly it'll heal sooner than a usual break. Her fracture was not simple, and I could assume she would have eventually lost feeling and blood to her lower leg and foot because of damaged nerves and blood vessels. I just couldn't let this happen to her, not after gazing into her eyes, even if it put me in danger.

A few hours after her father and Mr. TallTree leave, she wakes up groggy and tries to move. I'm at her side in seconds.

"Miss Anastasia, please don't try to get up. I've set your broken leg bone, and it's going to take time before you can put weight on it, ma'am." She looks up at me with those captivating, alluring green eyes—the loveliest I've ever seen. She shyly smiles at me, and my heart explodes.

In a soft, weak voice, she says, "I'm thirsty, please, doctor."

I fetch her a cup of water and hold her head so she can drink. Her hair is like the red of a sunset before snow, and it's soft as silk. She smiles at me and whispers, Thank you.

"Are you in much pain, Anastasia?"

She nodded yes, and I let her know I would give her more medicine and that I would be taking care of her personally all night and not to worry, just to rest.

"My father, Mr. TallTree?" she asks worriedly.

"I sent them home to rest and return in the morning."

She nods and closes her eyes, and soon she is fast asleep. I administer more medication to help keep her pain at bay. She sleeps very well, considering everything she has been through, and I sit and watch over her all night. I do not need sleep, but I sometimes sleep to keep up my human façade and occasionally to pass the time. I find myself drawn to her. I can not help but stare at her as if she were a priceless work of art out for display.

Anastasia wakes up around two in the morning. She is stammering, and I worry for just a bit if she has suffered a head injury in the fall; until she finally whispers, "I have to make water."

I'm glad her stammering is only from embarrassment. I move to her side with a bedpan, and I am very thankful we'd removed her pants earlier.

"Miss, I'm going to lift you. Once I do, place this pan on your bottom side, and it'll collect everything. Once you finish, call for me."

Surprisingly, that went well, and with minimal embarrassment for her. "Are you thirsty or hungry?"

Politely, she nods. Thankfully, I had purchased food the day before. In a small town, people expect to see me buying food. While she enjoys some cheese and apples on the exam table, we resume our chat.

She looks at me with intrigue and asks, "What is your name so I don't have to call you a doctor all day?"

"I'm Gabriel White."

I almost let slip my real surname, Dăscalu, and I'm uncertain how I would have explained that.

"It's very nice to meet you, Gabriel Smith. I'm Anastasia Ruby May Grace Bauchman, and because you saved my life, you can call me Ana." She beams at me as she introduces herself.

I like the southern accent she says her name with—a true Southern Bell.

"Now that's a long but lovely name, Ana. Do you know the history behind such a name? Something so special has to have a good history."

Her laugh sounds like tinkling bells as she says, "Well, indeed, it does! My mother loved the name Anastasia ever since she'd befriended a girl with the same name as a child. Ruby is my grandmother's name on my father's side, May is Mr. TallTree's mother's name, she is who delivered me, and my mother loved her dearly, and Grace was my grandmother's name on my mother's side."

I'm already so drawn to her that every word she says only draws me in more. During my nearly six centuries of wandering, I've explored lands beyond imagination, encountering wonders that defy logic. She is a force I've never experienced. I have little control over my emotions or thoughts in her presence. She's looking at me for a response, and I have no idea how long my mind has wandered.

"Well, I think it's a beautiful name with an exceptional meaning. Your ancestors are proud to have such a lovely lady carrying on their names."

She blushed, and as I cleaned up her dishes, she asked me questions about myself and where I'd come from. I hated lying to her, so I pulled my chair next to her bed and asked if she was comfortable or in much pain.

"I'm in a bit of comfort and a whole lot of pain." She says this as she giggles.

Laughing, I replied, "I don't think I've heard such an honest answer before."

We continue talking, and it comes with such ease that we feel like old friends. She tells me how they moved from North Texas and how her momma passed away when she was young. Then she talks in detail about the TallTree family and her relationship with each of them. They truly are a very close bunch. Her eyes continue to pull me in; it's as if a magnet was pulling us together.

She tells me about her equestrian training, then it is nonstop horse talk; her love of the animal is apparent. It's a good thing I've had several hundred years to know just about everything pertaining to horses. I enjoy listening to her talk; she has had many adventures for being so young. She tells me about the world travel the family has done, and we compare and trade stories of places we've both visited. I could lose myself in her eyes.

She yawns, and once we stop talking, her pain hits her pretty hard. I provide more medication, and she is soon sleeping soundly. I stay near her bedside all night, unable to pull myself away. I am being drawn to her by a force unlike anything I have encountered in my extensive life.

The next morning, her father arrives with a hearty greeting, trailing behind him a small Native woman I could only assume was May TallTree; both are so happy to see her wide awake. Her father floods her with questions about how she is feeling. I walk to my waiting room to give them some time together. After several minutes, May exits the room; she wears a hand-woven tribal match coat. Her skin is light brown, and her black hair is a striking contrast to the silver in her hair. I guess she's around fifty. Suddenly, she sits down next to me.

"It's not nice to guess a woman's age, but since you took a few years off, I won't be too angry."

I am stunned, and I guess it shows on my face. She smiles and taps her finger to her forehead.

"We have seen your kind before: the ageless, the drinkers of blood."

It is then that I realize she is saying this inside my head. I am fascinated and worried at the same time.

Scolding me, she says, "Hush, boy, do I look like a threat to you, the predator? Now, let me talk before Charles comes out. I perceive much in you, but I do not see a ruthless killer. I see a very young man, but also a very old man in one body. I see one who respects humans and has never killed someone he believes doesn't deserve to die. My Ana is special to you already, ach'ooni. I see you know my language and many, many more. What are your plans for Ana? I will not see her lose her nichi."

She thinks I'm going to turn her into an Upir.

"I would never turn her; her soul sings to me. It sings to the place where my soul once lived. She nods at me, and for some time, she looks at me and shakes her head.

"So...you envision the two of you together; she's old like me, and you're still young and ageless."

I'm confident she can read my mind, which fascinates me.

Smacking my knee, she snaps, "Boy! Pay attention; I need an answer now! And yes, I can read your mind and your emotions and emotional memories, too, a lot stronger than humans."

Apologizing, I say, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't know what this attraction to her is. Never have I had anything that feels like this, not in all the years of my life. I am certain I will allow nothing to hurt her in any way for as long as I continue to breathe; I can promise that without hesitation."

May stands up and smiles at me. She puts her hand on my forearm and motions for me to bend down. When I do, she takes the back of my head in one hand, places her other palm against my forehead, and speaks several words in Navajo very quickly; the only words I made out were love, eternal, and either path or trail.

Ana sleeps off and on all day, and I stay by her side, giving her medicine, food, and water as she needs them, and she gives me the gift of her conversation. We've been following this routine for several days, and she's been needing progressively less pain medication. I informed her father that I believe Ana can be taken home the day after tomorrow if all goes well today. On the fifth day, I am confident she will be able to go home the next day. Her father is thrilled and says he will have everything ready for her arrival. A sense of panic fills me at the thought of not having her near me. I can not recall the last time I felt panic or fear.

Talking to Ana feels effortless, like two souls that have danced through countless lifetimes together. Each word flows effortlessly, as if we've shared a lifetime's worth of conversations in mere days. It's as if she's become an integral part of my world in such a short span, and every exchange with her feels like discovering a connection that's been waiting to reconnect with me for so very long.

Ana is sitting up, smiling, and eating a fried egg and bacon sandwich, which she'd been craving. Of course, I had to make it for her. I also made her tea, and she was thrilled I had her favorite, chamomile. Yesterday, May came and washed her body and beautifully flame-kissed hair. She dressed her in a white cotton dressing gown and a light blue robe. Our conversation continues to flow effortlessly, with both of us talking about various topics. I see the passion ignite in her as she begins to talk about her love of horses again and tells me how Winter is recovering.

Engaging in conversations about horses, I find myself captivated by her dynamic personality, she is so full of passion, no matter the subject. She has a laugh that is infectious and a wickedly bizarre sense of humor. She is unlike any girl I have met, and I am utterly struck by her stunning presence. It dawned on me that she noticed my lingering gaze.

In a thickly laid-on Southern draw, she says, "Gabriel, didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to stare?"

She is smiling at me, and without thinking, I say, "Yes, ma'am, she did, but you are so magnificently beautiful that it's hard for me to take my eyes off you."

I didn't even realize what I'd said until I noticed her face turning bright red.

"Ana, I am so very sorry that it was so unprofessional and inappropriate for me to have said this to a proper lady like yourself."

She returns to her normal color and takes my hand. I jump, a bit surprised at her touch. In a soft voice with those intense eyes, she says, "Well, good news, sir; I am not a proper lady, and your words were so innocent. You had no intention of speaking to them; they just fell out. Besides, you're not hard on the eyes."

I don't think she intended to tell me that. It is almost comical how both of us expose ourselves, all our thoughts and feelings. The silence between us lasts several minutes, but she doesn't look away, and I run my thumb over her hand softly. As the silence thickens, it carries with it an unmistakable sexual tension. An exchange of both serious and inappropriate feelings that lingers and grows between us.

I squeeze her hand softly, bringing it to my lips, and kissing it gently.

"Well, I believe I promised you I would teach you to play card games. You said you were a professional poker player, right?"

She laughs loudly and says, "No, Sir, you said you'd teach me all the tricks of the trade."

"Yes, ma'am, it would be a pleasure to touch you...teach you."

I stand as I say this, trying to keep my composure. I walk out of the room, yelling back at her that I'd return in just a moment with cards and drinks.

Emotions I've never known a surge within me for this girl in such a short space of time. These feelings surpass anything I've experienced, both as an Upir and in my previous human life. Were it not for their mesmerizing and extraordinary nature, I would be overwhelmed by anxiety or even terror.

Upstairs in my small apartment, I inhale deeply. I just told her it would be my pleasure to touch her. I've never been flustered around a woman; I've flustered many women in my time, but this is just absurd. I am hoping she didn't notice the massive bulge in my pants as I stood up.

***

Ana

Sitting on the examination table, my broken leg feels as fragile as fine china, while my entire world has been set ablaze like a tree struck by lightning. The fact that Gabriel is attracted to me, of all people, leaves me in disbelief. I'm just a scrawny redhead with freckles on my face. What could someone as flawless and beautiful as Gabriel see in me? His words and the touch of his lips on my hand leave me breathless, wishing they were on my lips instead.

The thought crossed my mind that he could kiss me I don't care about all the rights and wrongs. At that moment, I realized I didn't care about anyone's opinions or judgments. If he were to walk back into the room and try to kiss me or even ask for permission, knowing him to be a gentleman, I would eagerly respond, "By all means, Sir. I have saved these lips just for you. They have never been touched by anyone else. I want yours to be the first, the only, and the last ever to kiss me."

These thoughts and feelings are driving me mad, swirling in my mind. I don't know much about sex, and, to be honest, I've never really felt the need to explore it, but since meeting Gabriel, it's been a continuous thought. It's not just the tingling he sends through me just by looking at him; it's something else that makes me curious. It feels as if I've known him forever. May would say it is níłchʼi; that it is tied to the soul. May thinks everything revolves around the soul somehow.

My mind returns to his lips and his handsome face, and I feel hot inside, almost as if I'm on fire. There is a sensation between my legs that is like nothing I've ever felt before. I think back to a few summers ago. One of the rancher's wives was pregnant, and Dove wanted to know how the baby got inside her. May explained it to Dove and me, comparing it to what horses do during the spring, but she said it is different and special between people.

As May spoke to me and Dove about childbirth, I found myself drifting off, unable to grasp the significance of her words fully. At the time, the thought seemed foreign and, frankly, a bit gross to me. So, I daydreamed, not paying as much attention as I probably should have.

Looking back now, I wish I had listened more attentively. Maybe then I would have understood the importance of what she was saying, and perhaps I could have appreciated it differently. But I couldn't shake off that feeling of awkwardness at the moment.

It's funny how perspectives can change with time. What once seemed weird and unsettling; now captivates and fascinates me. I regret not being more open-minded back then. Alone with my thoughts, I couldn't shake the curiosity about the feelings rushing through my body. It feels like some mystery I haven't quite figured out yet. My whole body tingles, my heart races, and I feel a wetness between my legs. Oh no, please not yet; it's too early for my period.

I lift the blanket slightly to check for blood, but I am thankful I am not bleeding. I run my finger over it and notice a wet substance. As I bring my finger back up to inspect it, I feel a pulsing sensation, like touching a sore thumb after slamming it into a door. Instead of pain, it's a rush of electrifying energy coursing through my body in a strangely captivating way. These unfamiliar sensations confuse and flood me. My nipples are hard, even though it's not cold. I hear Gabriel moving around upstairs. I run my hand over my breasts, touching myself again, discovering a throbbing swelling between my legs inside my private folds, and each touch sends exhilarating waves of pleasure throughout my body.

***

Gabriel

Upstairs, I take a moment to collect myself. I practice quick meditation and gather my cards before heading downstairs. Just as I'm about to enter, a scent fills the air—unmistakable and filled with desire. Cautiously, I peek around the corner and catch a glimpse of her pleasuring herself. I think this is her possible first exploration of self-discovery, given the expression on her face and the unsure, awkward moments of her hand. I have been fighting my arousal all day, and now it intensifies, with my cock pressing against my pants so intensely that it feels like it might burst my seam open. I can't tear my eyes away from her. I can't see what she's doing beneath her blanket; however, I can hear every breath and delicate sound.

Unable to resist, I free my cock and begin to stroke it fervently, watching as she bites her lip. I can hear her moving her fingers over her clitoral area. The wetness is intoxicating.

I hear the blood rushing to her clitoris, and a primal urge builds within me. I have to control myself from entering the room, pulling off her blanket, lifting her gown, and burying my face in her. I know she must taste like honey. I try to focus on stroking my cock, but I can't help but imagine licking her over and over until she orgasms and quivers against my face.

My mind is consumed now with the thoughts of licking her clean during her cycle, savoring her blood in my mouth. Again, the lust for her blood floods my thoughts. Then, rather quickly, I climax; I normally have some sort of control over the timing. On this occasion, I have no control; I orgasm, releasing a massive amount of semen all over my hand and carelessly onto the wall as well. It's been a long time since I've orgasmed this hard.

I head back up the stairs to clean myself up and grab something to clean the wall. I can't believe I allowed those thoughts to surface. How could I let my mind wander into such territory? Am I nothing but a creature driven by base desires? I'm ashamed that I let those impulses take hold, especially with someone as special as Ana. I need to reign in these urges and these thoughts and show her the respect and admiration she deserves.

Heading back downstairs to swiftly clean the wall, I glimpse into the office and see her visibly frustrated. I assume she's still worked up, but without practice, she's not skilled enough to bring herself to orgasm. And damn, if I'm not hard again thinking about going in there and teaching her. Shit, I need to regain control of myself!

These feelings seem to have sprung up out of nowhere overnight. It's honestly kind of absurd how quickly it's taken hold of me. The suddenness is overwhelming; everything feels undeniably right. I can't help but think these feelings and emotions have always been here, as if they have been waiting in the wings, patiently biding their time until their grand reentrance into my life. And now that it's here, it feels more fitting and more natural than anything I've ever experienced before. I wonder how I ever managed without her or these feelings.

To not embarrass her, I call out from the stairs, letting her know I'll be right down so she can compose herself. "I have to water my plant." As I walk back into the exam room, I can't help but think. "Water my plant?" She smiles at me, and the look in her eyes is a mirror of my feelings.

We play several games of cards, talking, and laughing until her stomach growls. We exchange glances and erupt in laughter. Where most girls might feel embarrassed, my Ana simply does not.

"How about I get us some dinner from the boarding house?"

I suggest I get food from Mrs. Thomas, who runs the boarding house. Her cooking is fantastic; she feeds her residents nightly and often tells me to join them. She's a sweet older woman. I always try to pay her, but she refuses, and each time, I leave money on her counter by the backdoor and tell her that pork chops don't grow on trees.

Ana laughs at this and we agree that it would be amazing if they did. As I make my way to the boarding house, it hits me. I referred to her as my Ana. I know it may sound unbelievable, but in all the years I've lived, I've had many partners, both men and women and while some stuck around for a while, I've never loved anyone. This feeling must be what love is. I am in love.

Ana and I indulge in a delicious meal of fried okra, greens, and fried chicken. I'm amazed at how such a petite person can eat so much. She truly enjoys every bite. We engage in deep conversation, talking until the late hours of the night and playing cards. For someone just learning the game, surprisingly, she wins a few games of Spades.

We laugh so hard that I fear she'll tumble off the bed while I share funny stories about my patients. I conveniently leave out the fact that some of these stories date back several hundred years. In return, she delights me with hilarious tales of the adventures she and her father have experienced over the years.

Ana tells me more about herself and her family, and it appears that Mr. Bauchman is quite the adventurer, while my Ana has a knack for accidents. I promise to work with her and improve her coordination, ensuring she won't trip over her own feet as she recounts the story of how she broke her leg.

This makes her laugh then she becomes quiet, and she whispers, "Gabriel why does it feel like I have always known you?"

"I have been wondering the same thing Ana, and the answer is I do not know."

I assist her with her nightly routine, helping her use the bathroom and making her as comfortable as possible before tucking her in. I pull up her blanket and secure the makeshift rail, relieved that I had taken precautions considering her predisposition to accidents.

I can't bear the thought of her falling off the bed unless it's into my arms. I gaze at her angelic face, bringing her hand to my lips, and whisper a tender goodnight to my sweet Ana.

***

Ana

Gabriel wishes me goodnight and kisses my hand. I surrender to the huge wave of happiness and force myself to stifle a squeal. He called me his Ana! I'm ecstatic and can't wait to share this news with Dove. She won't believe it, and I can't blame her. Gabriel feels like a dream, and sometimes I wonder if all of this is just a fever-induced hallucination as I slowly succumb to the infection in my broken leg.

I struggle to fall asleep. How can I sleep when I see Gabeiel's face every time I close my eyes? I know enough about the world to know I should not be having these feelings this soon after meeting him, should I? Times like this are when I miss my mother the most, I am full of questions a girl asks her mother. Thoughts of Gabriel and his lips consume my mind, and I can't help but feel sinful for wondering what he looks like without clothes; it must be a glorious sight. I fantasize about his touch against my naked body. I bring my finger back to the sensitive bump between my legs, and everything feels wet. I assume it's normal, but I'm uncertain. The tingling sensation returns, and I slip my fingers between the damp folds of my privates. I focus my thoughts on Gabriel kissing me as I desperately move my finger over that spot.

My heart is racing, my breath quickens, and I begin to sense a delightful feeling start to build. Then I adjust my finger just slightly; the feeling is gone. I don't know if it's the pain from my leg or just this entire situation, but I began to feel frustrated. I sigh in defeat and start to cry, just like a baby would. Small tears of frustration fall down my face.

Practically like magic, Gabriel is here next to me. I feel my face turning beet red. Had he seen me or heard me? Holding a candle, he steps into the room and places it near the examination table. The light from the candle spreads throughout the room, highlighting his flawless figure. He's wearing sleep pants, the fabric hanging loosely from his hips. His bare chest and his bronzed, sun-kissed skin are radiant. His muscles seem perfectly defined, each pronounced strong yet not too bulky. His face, with its sharp jawline and perfect cheekbones, contrasts with his kind, verdant eyes.  At this moment, I can't help but be struck by his handsome features, the way his skin glows under the soft light, and the strength in his gentle gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. He resembles an angel who fell from heaven and was casually placed before me.

"Ana, are you in pain?" Gabriel asks in concern.

Then, an indescribable expression crosses his face; he takes a deep breath as if bracing for something difficult. He gently moves my hair aside, wipes away my tears, and softly asks, "Ana, may I kiss you?"

Nodding to him; he leans in, and as our lips touch, my body seems to catch fire. My heart races as his lips press against mine, sparking a flame within me, unlike anything I've ever felt. Every nerve in my body tingles, as if a thousand stars have exploded inside me, casting a warm glow that envelops us both. I gasp, and he delicately guides me through the art of kissing, a lesson I quickly grasp. Our kiss seems to stretch into an endless moment.

I can feel my gown growing wetter between my legs. He begins to kiss my face and then says, "Ana, is this acceptable? Can I continue kissing you?"

I vigorously shake my head, prompting a smile from him. I realize that this simple yet profound gesture has opened the door to a whole new world of possibilities, where love feels like magic and anything seems possible. He proceeds to kiss my lips, then my neck. I moan as his hand explores my side and slowly moves to my waist. As he kisses my neck, he glances at me again to see if I approve of his actions, and again I adhemently nod yes. He unties my gown and moves the makeshift rail, I glimpse a sizable bulge in his pants. Panicking, I avert my eyes, feeling my heart gallop.

"Ana, how much do you know about anatomy?"

I stammer, admitting my limited knowledge. He suggests,

"Would you be open to me providing you a lesson?"

He grins at me with a smile that changes into a mischievous smirk as I nod yes.

"Well, Ana, I'm a firm believer in hands-on learning."

He leans in, kisses me passionately, and says, "Let's begin, shall we? Those beautiful lips lead to your mouth, which is called an orifice, and this here is your carotid artery." He's licking and kissing my neck and then my collarbone.

"This bone is your clavicle, and you have two; see, this is the other one; we call that term bilateral." He kisses both, and he's looking into my eyes as he does, and I think I'd give myself to him right now if he asked.

I can barely believe this is happening, and I think... I know I would die if he stopped now. I whisper, "That is so nice; it feels so good." I pray this encourages him not to stop.

***

Gabriel

Kissing her is pure madness because I know I have to be cautious and respectful and not frighten her, but I want to ravage her. I want to drink from her; I want to give her my blood so that I can feed off her more. She is now moaning, and the devil inside me is enjoying making her so wanting. I can hear the blood rushing to her clitoris. I can smell the wetness between her legs.

Ana is a very attentive student. As I teach her anatomy, I run my tongue over her sternum, pull her gown down, and ask, "Should I continue?"

Her watchful gaze shadows my every motion breathlessly, she tells me, "Yes, please," and her voice squeaks as she struggles to even speak.

With care, I lower her gown, exposing her breasts. I half anticipate a blush, considering her innocence, yet to my surprise, there's no hint of embarrassment—she faces the situation without any awkwardness.

I run my hands over her bare breasts and softly teach her the parts of her breast, first with my fingers, then with my tongue and mouth. When my tongue touches her nipple, she gasps and arches her back. I begin to kiss her breast, suckling it and cupping the other breast, and I softly pinch her other nipple as I move down her stomach, and then I'm back to her lips again, kissing her as if the world will end moments from now.

"Oh, my sweet, beautiful Ana, Is this too much? Should we stop? Can I keep going?"

She nods and whimpers, "Oh, yes, Gabriel, yes, please don't stop!" Hearing her say my name like this is more than I can handle. I adjust myself, feeling the undeniable arousal, and her gaze follows downward. Taking her hand, I guide it toward the bulge in my pants, causing her to appear somewhat apprehensive. She's touching it softly.

A look of fascination crosses her face and she asks, "Doesn't that hurt?"

I meet her eyes and respond, "Only if you stop," eliciting a tiny giggle and a beautiful, sly smile from her. Slowly, I begin to reveal my erection, keeping a watchful eye on her. Her expression widens in surprise as she takes in its size.

She boldly says, "I cannot refer to that as a tally; that's the common term around the ranch. What is its proper name?"

Taking her hand once more, I guide her hand and tell her, "I call it my cock, but the medical term is penis." I proceeded to educate her about my anatomy.

Demonstrating with my hand over hers, I show her how to stroke it, and she cautiously follows suit. Her touch is gentle and careful as she works her hand up and down my shaft. Once again, I guide her hand with mine, illustrating the way I pleasure myself, surprising her with the intensity and speed. I release my grip, and she becomes more confident, her actions becoming more assertive.

My pleasure becomes evident through moans, and she remains fixated on my cock, never taking her eyes off it. Ana continues to stroke, doing her best to encompass its girth with her tiny hand. Finding a good rhythm and grip, my breathing quickens, and I am moaning more and more, which fuels her, and she intensifies her efforts. Could a few strokes of her hand bring me to orgasm? She squeezes, and I gasp in pleasure. She looks up quickly, her eyes meeting mine, and in that moment, I am overwhelmed with love for her. Again, it is a feeling I've never had, but I'm confident it's what I feel. Unable to contain my emotions, I cup her face and kiss her passionately, leaving us both breathless.

"Ana, may I do something that might seem unusual and inappropriate? I promise it won't hurt, and I desire to do it so desperately."

She gives a nod of approval, and in an instant, I guide her to the edge of the bed, carefully keeping her injured leg elevated. Raising her gown, I act swiftly, not giving her a chance to feel self-conscious.

My tongue finds its way to her wetness, and she gasps. "Oh my God, Gabriel!"

Her hands desperately grip my hair, and her moans fill the air. I focus on stimulating her by repeatedly licking her throbbing clit.

Her breathing becomes erratic, and her body tenses as she cries out. "Don't stop, please, Gabriel, please."

There is a hint of panic in her voice, but I have no plans of stopping to reassure her. Determined, I increase my pace, feeling her back arch off the bed. Her moans grow louder, and I worry about the possibility of someone overhearing. With relentless intensity, I continue to pleasure her throbbing clit, and as she reaches climax, she pulls my hair and joyously screams, releasing herself onto my face and into my mouth. I moan in response, savoring her sweetness.

Panting, she utters, "Gabriel, oh God, Gabriel, it's incredible."

There is a hint of panic in her voice, but I have no plans of stopping to reassure her. Determined, I increase my pace, feeling her back arch off the bed. Her moans grow louder, and I worry about the possibility of someone overhearing. With relentless intensity, I continue to pleasure her throbbing clit, and as she reaches climax, she pulls my hair and joyously screams, releasing herself onto my face and into my mouth. I moan in response, savoring her sweetness.

Panting, she utters, "Gabriel, oh God, Gabriel, it's incredible."

Tiny movements begin in her hips. I can tell she is at that too-sensitive point, but with one hand firmly gripping and stroking my cock, I persist, aware that she is trying to maneuver her overstimulated clit out of my reach. In response, I use my free hand to hold her hip, and I ravish her once again. And soon enough, she moans with delight, pressing against my face and moving her hips as if she's riding one of her beloved horses.

The thought of her dominating my face one day is an exhilarating vision, almost pushing me to the brink. I sense her thighs locking around my head, and she repeats my name, pleading for me not to stop. I respond by licking her with increased speed, feeling her entire body tensing up in response. Finally, she reaches her peak, surrendering to an orgasm that leaves her petite body trembling and moaning deep primal moans.

As I gaze up at her, she watches me intently. Standing up, I make sure she can see my actions as I grasp my hard cock in my hand. I've been working on it for some time now, and I can feel it building inside me. Moving closer to her, I stroked it forcefully and rapidly. Her eyes widen, and she bites her lip. It is so tempting to cover her beautiful face with my cum, but instead, I aim away from her. With a deep, animalistic moan, I come forcibly. She is stunned but sees the pleasure on my face, responding with a mischievous smile.

I join Ana's side, grabbing a towel to clean myself up. She looked up at me, her face filled with countless questions. I asked for a moment to tidy up since she'd caused me quite a mess. She giggled as I left the room, my pants halfway down.

***

Ana

As Gabriel walks out, I admire the beautiful details of his backside. As he leaves to tend to his monstrous member, I try to recall what he called it—a penis. I've seen those before, in dogs, eww, and horses in heat on the ranch. I've witnessed them on baby boys during nappie changes, but I never knew that their small little "dinglies," as I used to call them, could grow to such a size! I'm quite skilled in mathematics, and if I were to estimate, it must have been around nine or ten inches in length. Then a thought runs through my mind. If stallions insert themselves into mares, does that mean Gabriel's penis will find its way into my vagina?

Gabriel returns to me, smiling, and asks, "Ana, what's on your mind, my love?"

My face must turn crimson because he chuckles and whispers, "Ah, now you're blushing! Please don't be shy; tell me what's on your mind, my love."

It's difficult to ask this bold question. I don't want him to think I'm a child, so I ask quickly in an unintelligible string of words.

"Does-your-penis-go-inside-my-vagina?"

He takes a moment to process my unexpected question, bursts into laughter, and gently touches my face. With a serious tone, he replies, "If I'm fortunate enough, one day, I hope it does find its way inside your vagina."

I'm stunned for a moment, and then we both burst into uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down my face.

"Gabriel, you're so naughty, and I love it! But I do wonder if you'll fit inside me. We have smaller mares who can't mate with larger stallions. I'm a small mare, Gabriel, and well, you're a massive stallion compared to me."

He's leaning over me again and kissing me softly all over my face. He moves to my ear and says,

"When you are ready, my love, I will take you so softly and so gently, taking all the time in the world; humans' anatomies aren't too different than horses, but the small mare is not bred with the big stallion because the horse does not wait and does not take care; they force themselves into the mare, ripping her, but you, my love, have absolutely nothing to fear. I will take as long as you need and I will only do what you allow me to do. I will only ever bring you pleasure. I promise my life I will never hurt you."

"I love you, Gabriel."

He plasters my face with kisses, looks into my eyes, and says, "You... you love me?"

He looks so caught off guard that I wonder if I said that too quickly or if I shouldn't be the one saying it. Is that something a man only says first?

"Oh, my Ana, my perfect sweet angel. I love you too, Anastasia, and I will love you for millennia."