Darkness In The Flames

by Kelly, Sahara

  Panting, they stared at each other. “I can wait no longer, my red-haired wanton.” Rowan choked out the words. “I need to come now. Inside you. Deep inside you. I want to fill you with me and drive the thoughts of any other men from your heart. From your soul if such a thing is possible.”

  “If only it were possible.” She sighed. “End it, Rowan. I cannot think, cannot see, can do naught but feel…feel you.”

  He lifted her from the waters and laid her gently on the tumble of clothes next to the pool. She was supple and limber, wet with her juices streaming from her pussy, relaxed from her orgasms and ready to accept him once again.

  Even then, Rowan wanted to prolong the moment. He pushed her arms high above her head, leaving them outspread. Her breasts thrust up toward him and he settled himself, pushing her thighs apart and bending her legs at the knees.

  She was wide open—revealed in her splendor—ready to accept him as he claimed her and reached the ultimate peak.

  Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his body, cock to pussy. He watched himself as he began the slow slide to heaven, her cool moisture bathing his boiling cock. There was nothing to bar his passage, just the easy slick welcome of a woman’s sheath that hungered for him and a completion that even now was thundering in his brain and his balls.

  He thrust, a deep plunge that startled a groan from them both.

  “Ahh, Rowan. How good this feels.” Her hips lifted to accommodate him. “How perfectly your cock fills me.”

  “Yes…” Rowan’s words were drying up as he moved, quicker now, picking up the pace, finding a rhythm that corresponded to her movements and satisfied his own desires.

  “Thank you, my dear Rowan.” It was a whisper that surprised him.

  “Thank me in a minute or two…” He was drowning, losing himself as the heat that had lurked in his spine exploded into an onrush of sensation. “I’m coming, Thérèse…”

  “I know.”

  Her loins began to move in a matching tempo as Rowan’s balls erupted, sending floods of his come down the short distance to their ultimate goal. He lifted his head and watched her eyes, a tiny part of his brain surprised at the sadness he saw there.

  “And I’m almost sorry for what I must do.”

  Chapter Three

  “She bit you.” Marcus spoke the words quietly, noting the emotions that had chased themselves across Rowan’s face as he told his tale.

  The other man nodded. “Yes, she bit me. We climaxed and I felt her fangs sink into the skin of my throat, felt her drink. She drew my soul from me in the same way she drew my semen from my balls.” He frowned. “But moments later she forced me to drink from her.”

  “How?”

  “I-I’m not sure. I think she tore her own wrist—held it to my lips—it’s a blur, Marcus. I know I tasted her—really tasted her. I felt her orgasm as if it were my own. I felt her pain and her pleasure and her anger. There was an overwhelming, crushing sadness, lightened only by the physical delight we shared. And I felt her hunger. A dark savage hunger. I can’t explain it…” He took a shuddering breath. “There are no words adequate to really express those things.”

  Marcus nodded. “Very well. Let that go for the time being. Tell me of the time since…since Thérèse—what you’ve experienced…” He would know as much as he could, he decided. The more Rowan shared, the better armed Marcus would be.

  He liked Rowan, more than he cared to admit even to himself. The luxury of friendships was something he’d been denying himself. He didn’t have the time or the desire to open the door to his affections and consequently face the pain of losing someone. Marcus had been too busy losing himself.

  But that had changed with Rowan’s arrival into his life. Something about the man stirred him, awakened a part of him he thought he’d buried. A desire to live, perhaps, or a knowledge that there was still something worth living for.

  It was a mixed blessing, indeed. And Marcus wasn’t sure he was exactly thrilled with it.

  But nevertheless it had happened. If he could help Rowan in any way, he would. Knowledge, in Marcus’ experience, was always a first step—a first weapon to take up.

  “Since Thérèse?” Rowan’s lips curled wryly. “There has been nothing for me since Thérèse.” He glanced up. “Until tonight. Until we met. For the last couple of years I have idled my way through what is now my existence. I shun the daylight for obvious reasons, have learned how to feed without killing—I could not kill, Marcus. I would have you know that.”

  Marcus nodded. “You need not say it. ‘Tis writ clearly on your face, Rowan.”

  “Thank you for that.” Rowan sighed. “I have done what I needed to do and also done what I wanted to do. But nothing fills the emptiness inside me. Only the nights when she comes to me…”

  “She comes to you?”

  “In dreams.”

  The black eyes might have been mysterious, but Marcus could see the pain lingering in them as their gazes met. “Every night?”

  “No, not every night.” Rowan shrugged. “When the mood takes her, I suppose. Or when she feels the need for what I can offer.”

  “What is that?”

  Rowan shook his head. “I don’t know, Marcus. I fuck her, of course. In dreams. In visions of sensual delights and depravities. I’ve shared her with other men and other women. I’ve done things, seen things—I can’t even describe what my dreams have entailed.” He paused. “And yet—”

  Marcus waited patiently.

  “And yet I still—yearn for her. I still want her. Every night if she’d come to me. I’d take her on her terms, on any terms at all, just so that I could be with her.” Rowan looked up then, anguish in his expression. “Does that make any sense at all or am I completely mad?”

  Marcus smiled gently. “You’re not mad, Rowan.” He noted the relief that crossed the other man’s eyes. “You’re in love.”

  *~*~*~*

  Could it be true?

  Was he in love with Thérèse? And if so, what sort of a monster did that make him that he could love such a creature?

  Rowan’s thoughts were troubled as he readied himself for bed. A sound outside the house had disturbed their discourse and Marcus had taken a quick look at the clock, confirming what Rowan already knew.

  Dawn was approaching.

  There was no question of Rowan leaving now, it was too close to sunrise. So he’d gladly accepted Marcus’ offer of a room, pleased to find it dark and heavily draped. It surprised him, this trust he felt, the comfort he took from a man he’d known such a short time.

  And yet they shared much that others would not understand. Perhaps it was just the natural course of things, the alignment of two lost souls. And the mutual exchange of matters undisclosed to the rest of the world.

  Rowan shrugged and lay beneath the covers, stretching and yawning as his body found the best position. This rest would be like all the others—a tiny death, a cessation of his body’s functions. He would not wake until the sun set, nor would he betray by a flicker that he was alive.

  Marcus seemed to know this, promising he would be undisturbed until dark. He also promised they would talk more when he awoke.

  Surprisingly, the older man had stepped to Rowan and taken him in his arms before parting. Just the simple embrace had touched Rowan in a way that had caught him completely by surprise.

  They’d held each other, familiar with each other’s bodies and now with each other’s minds as well. Rowan took great pleasure from the contact and wondered if this was another form of love.

  The love that was born of mutual attraction, both physical and psychological. An affection that seemed different to passion, less dazzling perhaps, less stimulating but more satisfying? He did not know.

  He only knew it gave him much delight to be held like that, to be in Marcus’ arms and to feel—comforted.

  He yawned again, letting the familiar lethargy begin to numb his body. There were so many things he wanted to ask Marcus, so many questions, so m
any thoughts he wanted to share.

  And yes, so many erotic explorations he wanted to experience. The lust he felt for Marcus was undiminished. It might always be there—Rowan didn’t know.

  “I don’t know much of anything…” The whisper drifted from his throat as his mind drifted into the darkness of his personal void.

  And that night he dreamed.

  “Rowan…come to me?”

  Arms outstretched, unashamedly naked, Thérèse was there, red hair flying freely around her white shoulders.

  “I need you.”

  He went to her, unhesitating, eager for the touch of her skin. “I’m here, Thérèse. Always here for you.” Like a lodestone to north his lips fell on her breasts, finding the rosy tips and nipping them quickly in that way he knew she loved.

  “Ahhh, my Rowan. I have missed you.” She found his cock and stroked it, tugging on the silky folds of his foreskin, laughing with delight as he emerged—as always—hard and ready for her.

  “Why?”

  The question popped out of nowhere and Thérèse’s hand paused. “What?”

  “You say you have missed me. What have you missed, Thérèse?” He slid his hand between her thighs and roughly parted her folds, pushing two fingers inside her wetness. “Have you missed this?” He added another finger. “I doubt it. There are others to give you the fucking you seem to need.”

  A frisson of anger shivered down his spine at the mere thought. He pushed it away as best he could. “I doubt I’m the only creature you haunt. I know I’m not the only creature you fuck.”

  She hesitated then smiled. “Oh but, Rowan—you are one of my best.” She moved, grinding herself down on his hand. “Whether it’s your fingers or your mouth or your splendid cock, you are one of the best, my sweet.”

  Angry at himself for caring, Rowan found her nipple again and bit down, harder this time. “I would be your only. You know that, Thérèse.”

  She writhed in delight. “’Tis not for one such as me to have just one lover.” Her nails found his chest and raked down over his nipples, leaving tiny wounds behind. “I need fucking, Rowan. All the time. In all the ways possible. More than you alone can give me…” Her fangs slid over her lips. “Although you give me much, dear Rowan.”

  “Not yet.” He pulled back, tearing his hand from her pussy. “I’m not ready to give you what you want. Not tonight.”

  She pouted. “If it’s games you desire—then let’s play games, shall we? It could be fun…” She was gone from him, the air stirred by her movements brushing against his naked flesh.

  “Thérèse…” He turned, looking for her.

  “Here, Rowan. Over here.”

  Rowan’s body chilled. Splayed on the ground in front of her was—Marcus.

  Thérèse was between his outspread thighs, stroking his cock to its full arousal. “So nice. So thick. You know, I couldn’t feed from this one. Couldn’t even reach him again to find out why that was so. Most strange.” She tilted her head and glanced at Rowan from beneath her eyelashes. “But now—thanks to you, my darling, I can find him once more.”

  “God, no. Thérèse—please—not him—”

  “But yes, him.”

  Rowan moved to her side, staring at his friend. Marcus’ eyes were glazed and he did not move or speak. He seemed to be almost asleep.

  She sighed. “Even now, he’s not really here. Not like we are. ‘Tis but an illusion, my sweet. But what a fun illusion…” She straddled Marcus. “Come. We shall all fuck together. See?” She lowered herself. “He shall claim my sheath and you, darling Rowan, you shall take my arse. We shall all three be satisfied, won’t we?”

  Helpless to stop her, Rowan caught his breath as she lowered herself onto Marcus’ cock. Unmoving, unresponsive, Marcus lay there as if in a stupor. Was he real? Was he seeing this? Feeling this? Or was it, as Thérèse averred, just an illusion?

  Rowan didn’t know. And when she leaned forward, offering him her white and beautiful buttocks, he couldn’t refuse.

  He yearned for her, any way he could get her. If this was love then the poets were wrong. It wasn’t bliss—it was torture.

  A torture that held him in its thrall, that led him to stand behind her and kneel, and a torture that forced his cock to find the tight little ring of muscles and push beyond, into the darkness he knew would hold him fast.

  Just as she held his heart—or what was left of it.

  Her sighs of delight found an echo in Rowan, as each took what they wanted—what they needed. Since Marcus lay quiescent, it was Thérèse who moved, setting the pace for their fucking.

  As Rowan plunged deeper between her buttocks, he felt the abrasion of Marcus’ cock inside Thérèse’s sheath, a hard arousal that fed his own desires, adding to his lust—his need to come.

  “Oh yes, oh yes Rowan…” Thérèse was panting now, moving quickly up and down, hand between her thighs, stimulating her clit as she rose and fell in time with Rowan’s cock. “So full, so good…”

  Lost in the moment, Rowan could only follow where she led. Knowing his friend was beneath her and that he was there because he’d made the mistake of befriending Rowan—it was a pain that could not be imagined.

  How could he have been so foolish? He’d opened a portal between Marcus and Thérèse that might never be closed now. She couldn’t feed from him, but she could claim him in other ways—ways that would destroy him as surely as the disease that protected him from the vampire bite.

  Rowan felt her tensing around him, her muscles growing taut and trembling. “I’m going to come, Rowan. Oh God, I am going to come—this is—so—good…”

  To Rowan’s surprise, Marcus seemed to waver a little, as if his body shimmered into vapor. It became indistinct, shadowed, blurred and without definition.

  Even the feel of his cock inside Thérèse diminished.

  And then it was just Rowan buried in Thérèse’s arse, bringing her over the top to her orgasm.

  He found her breasts, crushing them roughly in his hands, squeezing their peaks hard as she shattered. “Aaaaah…” The scream tore from her throat much as the matching sound roared from his own.

  He came—filling her—pumping himself into her in an endless stream of passion. They tumbled through the misty and fading image of Marcus, Rowan’s cock still throbbing between her buttocks, streams of his come overflowing onto her white flesh.

  “Rowan…” She shifted her head, turning toward him, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes. “Give me what I need.”

  He had no choice. He could never fight the desires of both his heart and his soul.

  Rowan thrust his wrist to her fangs and waited for the piercing pain. It came rapidly, along with the drawing sensation that Thérèse always caused when she fed from him. His cock softened and slipped free as she drank and he moved a little, easing his cramped limbs.

  His own fangs were out, hungering for a taste of her, but she was too involved to recall his needs—she was totally centered on her own.

  Finally she eased away and a drop of his blood fell onto the vague shape of Marcus that Thérèse had created.

  Rowan watched as the glowing red droplet tumbled down—down—so slowly it was as if time itself had paused to observe this moment.

  And as it splashed into a brilliant crimson ring—Rowan awoke.

  *~*~*~*

  Marcus sat quietly by the bed, watching Rowan sleep. Although it was more like a wake than a bedside vigil since the vampire in him kept Rowan motionless as a corpse. No flutter of life stirred the sheets around his naked chest—no breath shifted his nostrils—there was nothing to indicate Rowan lived.

  Nothing except the expression of agony in his black eyes when his lids finally lifted and he awoke. “Oh God, Marcus. I’m so sorry…” Rowan’s hand reached out involuntarily as he turned his head to see Marcus sitting near him.

  “For what?” Marcus took the hand, finding it cold and tense.

  “Did you…did you dream?”

&nbs
p; There was nothing to be gained by prevarication. Marcus had promised himself he’d always be honest with Rowan. Now was as good a time as any to begin keeping that promise. “Yes. I dreamed. I saw her. And you.”

  “Fuck.” Rowan closed his eyes again. “Fucking Christ.”

  “’Twas only a dream, Rowan. Dreams are not real.”

  “For you, maybe. For me—it was real, Marcus. All too real. And now I’ve dragged you into hell. The hell I share with her.” His fingers tightened in Marcus’ grip. “I shall never forgive myself.”

  “You are being much too dramatic.” Marcus loosened their hands. “Move over.” He slipped out of his dressing gown and lifted the bedcovers, sliding in beside Rowan. “Let it go, my friend. You are awake now. We are together.”

  Marcus pulled Rowan to him, enclosing him in an embrace that was intended to comfort but also served to arouse. Rowan’s skin was cool to the touch, a lick of chill that sent tingles through Marcus’ body and hardened his cock.

  Gratefully, Rowan curled into him. “I know I’m awake. But seeing her again, seeing you there, so helpless…”

  Marcus thought for a moment. “Rowan, she can’t hurt me. She cannot feed from me, nor can she make me suffer the way she does to you. To me, this was merely a dream of sex, actually not unpleasant since I got to share her with you.” He chuckled. “I found I awoke with a rather impressive case of lust. I’m just not sure who it was for.”

  Rowan eased a little, his muscles loosening as he nestled against Marcus. “Really?”

  Marcus grinned and reached for Rowan’s hand once more, dragging it down over his body to his groin. “Really. Here. Judge for yourself.”

  Cool fingers found the length that even now was hard and Marcus nearly groaned at the pleasure of Rowan’s touch.

  “Hmm. Impressive lust indeed.” Rowan’s voice sounded less frantic now, more sensual. His fingers caressed Marcus gently. “I would not have her haunt your dreams, Marcus. ‘Tis a nightmare you should have escaped.”

  “I did escape it, Rowan. You could not. She holds you in her thrall somehow. When she calls you, you must answer. I do not hear her call—or at least I haven’t up to now. My belief is that you and I are connected by some…some strange bond. There is a link between us that permits her to draw upon my image and invade my dreams.”