There's a taste to him I can't quite place. It's somewhere between innocence and absolute virginity. I never truly thought of all the shadees in between, not until this moment when I am tasting him for the first time. He was surely a virgin before this night, though by the time I've unwrapped my limbs from his and tasted him one last time he will not be. It's the in-between, the knowing that his eyes have seen darkness even before the demon lived within his flesh, the knowing that he watched it but never partook. I can feel it in his blood that he has looked upon sin and smiled at it. Only now in the clutches of death, waning lamp light casting a hazy yellow shade over half-closed eyes does he truly know what the sin felt like. It is an odd thing to know the look of giving into temptation and yet know nothing of the release it brings. I do not envy him that, but then it's been more than a century since I knew what that innocence truly was.