Dating Two Dragons

by Sky Winters

  He buried his face in her breasts as he crouched over her, his tongue cool and silky over her skin but his gestures those of a starving man suddenly offered a hearty meal. Little groans mixed with his growls, and he caught one of her nipples in his mouth, his fangs just brushing it before he started sucking. She let out a low, astonished wail, half sitting up, the unfamiliar pleasure coursing through her like electricity. He paused, and then got a little of his self-possession back, chuckling against her skin. Both hands reached down to cup her breasts, and he kneaded and kissed them in earnest, switching his mouth from one to the other when she started getting sore.

  More fabric ripped; her skirt was gone. She made a small noise of protest, her shyness welling up, but he simply raised his head and stared at her before very deliberately reaching down to caress her thighs. His fingers traced her skin, then started stroking and kneading her through the fabric of her panties. He kept at her breast as he worked, and she whimpered and moaned, hands in his hair, breathless. The doubled sensation mixed inside her body and left her straining and trembling under him, her skin hot, her head spinning, and her voice...ah, yes, that was her voice, begging him to go on, begging him not to stop.

  He was no kinder to his own clothes, tearing his shirt with his impatience, buttons flying. His trousers he yanked open and down, destroying their zipper, not seeming to care. He was barely undressed enough for the act when he threw himself over her.

  His smooth, cool body pressed her into the divan’s velvet cushions, and she felt him enter. She had expected pain; there was only a little ache, though, drowned out by sweetness--and his reaction as her soft, warm flesh accepted him. He let out a long, anguished moan, eyes widening, body going rigid as he clung to her. He fought for control, his body shaking against hers...and then relaxed slightly, his head tilting down to look at her. His expression was half wild and half tender, like the adoration of a wolf; then his eyes rolled closed and he started to thrust.

  Lucinda had never romanticized the idea of her first time. She was too pragmatic. But now, trembling under her first lover, she felt as if her body was afire. Pleasure and need for more pleasure, the growing, uncontrollable tension in her muscles; the way his rough movements felt better and better with every roll of his hips; all of these things were as strange to her as his fangs and the glow of his eyes. And beautiful, so beautiful. She closed her eyes, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pounded away at her. She felt her breath catch and shudder in her throat--and then her back arched as his ferocious movements drove her over the edge.

  Her long cries echoed off the walls as he moved fiercely against her, the divan shaking, her body writhing under him as her climax tore through her. Her ecstasy touched off his own within moments. He shuddered violently, and pressed down on her hard enough to drive her into the cushions. His voice rose in a scream of mixed relief and joy...and then trailed off, his tremors stilling.

  He sighed contentedly as he gently settled over her. She had just enough strength left to slide a limp arm around him before the world drifted away from her.

  “Are you alright?” Yohan’s voice, soft and drowsy, whispered in her ear, and she realized that she had actually fainted. They lay entwined on the divan, he on his back and she curled up against his side with his arms around her. His cool, dry body felt good against her warm one, and she smiled before leaning up to kiss him under the chin. He let out a little sound of relief, and stroked her hair softly.

  “I’m...better than fine….” she murmured.

  He chuckled, then ventured, “I apologize for your uniform...it has been some centuries since my last time, you see. I fear it left me a little pent up.”

  She giggled, and hid a blush in his shoulder. “You’ll have to come up with something for me to wear,” she pointed out lazily, although she had a feeling his shirts wouldn’t be big enough for her to wander around in.

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll manage something.”

  As she recovered, he held her, at first quietly. But then, softly and slowly, he began to speak. “I know what you have gone through because I went through it myself.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. “You did?”

  “Oh yes. Performers and composers alike have suffered some variant on this problem since musical patronage first began.” He nuzzled her hair, idly twining one of her curls around his finger. “I was a less than successful composer in Vienna when I became as I am...three hundred and twelve years ago. My music was unpopular due to its less than traditional nature. I found an audience only in certain quarters, none of which involved wealthy patrons. I was doomed to obscurity, and had to settle for life as a simple copyist working at a conservatory. And I hated it. I spent my days devoted to preserving the work of others, while my own would never be preserved.

  “I was...dying when Claudia found me. Plague. It was still common in those days. I would have ended up in a lime-pit if not for her. I had no particular desire for immortality. But I did have a family, and when Claudia offered a cure which would allow me to continue to support them despite my illness, I agreed to it.”

  He smiled thinly. “At the time, it was like a miracle. Yes, I required regular infusions of blood to maintain my health, but my strength returned, and with it my ability to work. Of course, only at night. And at evening and before dawn, I could see my wife, and our two little ones. I think the children suspected something. But they were always happy to see me. And Constanze...I could not have withstood being apart from her.”

  He turned his head to stare out the window at the rain. “But time passed, and our children grew and left to make their own ways, and she began to age, while I did not. And never could she see me during the day. A side effect of my surviving that particular illness, Claudia and I explained, but...Constanze was not stupid.

  “All that I could do to keep her was to beg my sire for the chance to make my wife like myself. Claudia agreed...but explained to me that I must first let Constanze know what it was that was being offered to her. It is not in our practice to take the unwilling, you see.”

  He looked at her, his eyes bright again, and sadness written in every line of his face. “And so one night, I showed her. And I told her the whole truth...and she ran from me.” He blinked rapidly and looked away again. “I followed, for she was so frightened, and I feared her running in the dark. Our garden was as black as a tomb, after all. But the harder I tried to catch up, the more desperately she fled from me.

  “I don’t know if she tripped, or struck her head on a branch in a certain way, or what other misadventure befell her before I caught up. But I found her...with her neck broken. Already gone.”

  He was shaking. She ran her hand up over his shoulder, and caressed her way up and down his arm until he calmed and looked up at her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I can see now why you would expect me to run.”

  He licked his lips, nodding slowly. “I have been alone ever since. I mourned her a long time. And my shrew of a progeny Imelda made certain to drive away anyone she thought I might fall for. I’m sure she’ll take a swipe at you as well.” He offered a tight smile. “I wish I could have kept this from you just a little longer. I would have enjoyed...just a little, innocent time with you, without the facts of my existence always imposing themselves.”

  She rolled over so that she lay over him, fingers sliding over his chest. “I don’t really understand all these things. But...I would rather know. You don’t have to hide things from me, Yohan. I...I’m not perfect, and I don’t know much about love to begin with. But I know that if you’re with someone, you have to love them as they are. Not as you or they would want them to be. This is going to take some getting used to. But I’m new at everything to do with relationships, so...I...will just do my best.”

  He sighed happily, and then gasped softly as she kissed his chest. “You are a wonder,” he murmured. “I...never imagined that you would stay. No matter what Claudia said.”

  She propped herself up on her arms
and blinked down at him. “She...set us up?”

  He smiled wryly. “Oh yes, curse her and bless her at once, my meddling sire. She’s been setting up these contests to find someone for me. Said she was tired of my moping!”

  “Oh my God.” She blushed and giggled, hiding her face under his chin. “So that’s what this was about.”

  “Yes.”

  “...Wow.” She lay down cheek to cheek with him, looking out at the rain alongside him. “I guess I owe her one.”

  He slid a hand up and down her back as they lay there. “So do I, Schätzele,” he whispered as she started to drift off. “So do I.”

  THE END

  Return to TOC

  VAMPERELLA AND THE BILLIONAIRE

  Cindy woke up earlier than normal. She hadn’t been sleeping the way she used to. Tossing and turning around in her small bed had become her nightly norm. But, when she woke up this morning, she could feel something special in the air. Outside her bedroom window the sweet sound of the New York rain created a soothing melody that filled her heart with a magical hope. She jumped off her bed to glance outside her window, which was a bit jammed, but she managed to open it by pushing her muscles up and against the glass pane.

  The rain was briskly hitting the New York streets, creating a romantic atmosphere with an element of gothic sublimity. She stuck her face out of the window to feel the rain kiss her pale porcelain skin. She was a young woman with shapely curves that had made other women cringe with jealousy. Her eyes were large and blue. And her untouched lips were soft and pinkish, finely shaped.

  People were walking under umbrellas on streets, hiding their heads from the rain. Most of them were buzzing their way on the road, in their cars. Everybody seemed busy in some way. There was an old man, about eighty years old that gazed up at Cindy in the window. She thought that the old man had lived a long life, and she admired the lines on his face—evidence of experience she did not yet have. She was just nineteen years old, and there was a long life ahead of her. She wasn’t even sure about the decision she took, of going to New York to pursue theatre. Her foster family had laughed in disbelief. Time would tell, whether her decision was a good one or not.

  “EEEEEK!” the alarm clock exploded like a grenade, and she was completely startled. She took a deep breath, and reached for the alarm clock with her hand. She turned the alarm off. It was seven-thirty. “Here we go again!” she muttered, and quickly changed her dress. It was an ordinary blue dress, which she had worn about a million times. She didn’t have much of a choice. Even in her tattered drabs, Cindy always looked remarkable.

  She darted out of her apartment, and locked the door on her way out. She was a house-cleaner in the morning, caterer in the afternoon, and waitress by night. Three grueling jobs with lousy pay. But that had to be done if she wanted to survive in a city like New York, and she certainly couldn’t rely on her foster parents. All her life she depended on herself, and she wasn’t willing to abandon that attitude. Her foster parents had worked her hard, but she supposed that was payment for food and a roof over her head.

  She walked down the street trying to avoid the puddles. Just when she thought she was in the clear a semi-truck rolled by and splashed her blue dress with mud. “So much for my fairy tale morning,” she muttered.

  When she arrived at the massive Victorian building she carefully climbed up the slick stairs to begin her daily housecleaning. She was a pro at housecleaning, because that’s all she did back home. She wiped floors, removed cobwebs, took out the trash, cleaned furniture, and lots of other things. Life wasn’t getting any easier for her. She knew that she had to get strong enough to deal with all that or else she would have to kiss her dream of becoming a star goodbye. She was waiting for a miracle to happen, and didn’t care how cliché it sounded. She was a dreamer. There was something inside her that always made her realize that nothing was impossible.

  Finally she got to the apartment where she had to do her work, but before she could ring the doorbell, she noticed the door knob twist clock-wise, and her employer pulled the door back with an angry look on her face.

  “You’re late!” cried the bitter woman, who had just stepped out of her house.

  “Sorry, Ms. Biel,” Cindy spoke in a low and gentle voice, as she took a couple of steps back.

  There was a flicker in Ms. Biel’s eyes that confirmed her prior suspicions—this would be no ordinary day.

  Chapter 2: Cleaning House

  “You better straighten up your schedule Cindy. I have no tolerance for ones who overlook the importance of time.” said the woman, in a stiff and unforgiving voice. Ms. Biel was an older woman, with a cold exterior, yet still incredibly attractive.

  Cindy nodded with a heavy head.

  “Did I make myself clear?” she inquired bitterly.

  “Yes, Ms. Biel,” she said in defeat.

  “Good.”

  With that she threw her rusty apartment keys at her in a hurry. The old keys hit Cindy on the tip of her fingernail, as she failingly attempted to catch. Cindy gasped as part of her index finger nail broke off, and a few drops of scarlet colored blood trickled down to the floor.

  “Damn it Cindy. And now clumsiness?” Ms. Biel huffed. A strange gleam came in her eyes when she saw blood escaping her long fragile finger. “Come here,” she sounded as if she was repressing something.

  Cindy was feeling pain, but she pretended to be tough, in order to prevent a lengthy dialogue with the old mysterious lady. She bent down to pick up the keys. Ms. Biel’s eyes turned fiery-red in color, but she quickly covered them up with a pair of sunglasses, which she always kept with her. Cindy took a couple of steps forward. “Show me your hand,” Ms. Biel insisted, in a motherly tone this time.

  Cindy stretched her hand forward. Ms. Biel grabbed her hand and inspected it closely like a goldsmith measuring a golden nugget.

  “I’m sorry for that. I have been under a lot of stress lately. You mind if I tend to your wound?” She gave her an affectionate look.

  Cindy was confused by Ms. Biel’s sudden change. “Sure Ms. Biel.”

  Ms. Biel placed Cindy’s fingers in her mouth and began to suck, slowly and gently. Cindy felt a chill run down her spine, but at the same time she felt a strange kind of sensation. The feeling was a mixture of horror and romance. In that particular moment, she felt lost in some mysterious place. At first it seemed so strange what Ms. Biel was doing, but then it began to feel normal.

  “Very interesting,” purred Ms. Biel with a coy smile, “Now that is something I have not experienced in a while, quite a unique taste,” she chimed as she dropped Cindy’s hand gently to her side.

  “Well, all right now Cindy snap out of it. You better get to cleaning as I am having many houseguests this week.” Ms. Biel, adjusted her fine little off-white hat, and walked down the ornate steps. “And don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.” She turned her head a little to look at the startled girl.

  “Yes Ms. Biel,” replied Cindy. She felt better. It seemed as though she was healing quickly.

  Cindy quickly walked into the house. She locked the door on her way in, and leaned her back against it for a few minutes, till she slowly slipped down on the floor. “Focus Cindy, Focus!” she backed herself up. The house was gigantic; Ms. Biel was easily Cindy’s wealthiest client. She quickly grabbed the mop, which was lying helplessly on the floor in the store room. She remembered that she had placed it in a bucket on the previous day. It seemed as though someone did some cleaning while she left the place. But cleaning wasn’t necessary at all. She did a fine cleaning job. And besides, Ms. Biel, was the only person who lived there. It couldn’t have gotten messy, Cindy thought. Ms. Biel was a business woman, so she deemed cleaning as something that was beneath her, and that was the very reason she hired Cindy.

  “Who cares,” she said spontaneously, as she grabbed the mop from its thin long handle with one hand, and the little silver bucket with the other. She mopped the floor thoroughly. She loved drawing pat
terns on a dry floor with a wet mop, and at times, strange marks were left on the floor. Then she had to clean it again.

  She went to the library, her favorite room to clean so she could admire the old books, and of course her favorite painting. It was of a mysterious man with long hair standing by the ocean. His eyes were so inviting, and yet sad. Her favorite part of cleaning Ms. Biel’s house was looking at this painting, she felt so drawn to the man, in a way that filled her body with a mysterious sensation.

  While she was mopping the library, she saw something under the table. It was a stain of some sort, a red stain. She knelt down and began to examine it like a detective. She looked at her hand to see if it was bleeding again. But she was surprised to see that it was completely healed. It was impossible for her to believe.

  She pushed the wooden table a bit, and mopped the floor clean. The red stain was as good as gone. After that she had to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen appliances.

  She walked straight into the kitchen, and took a deep breath. There were very few dishes for her to clean, mostly red wine glasses, so she was relieved. While she was doing the dishes, she came across a sharp knife that had a few drops of blood on it. Her day was getting weirder and creepier, but she decided to push all the strange thoughts about the blood out of her mind.

  She felt tired already. But there was one more thing to do before leaving the house. She had to vacuum Ms. Biel’s room. It was a messy business for her in the start, but then it started to get easy. She was glad that her cleaning tasks were going to be over. But while she was vacuuming, again she witnessed a strange thing that made no sense. It was blood, on Ms. Biel’s bedroom carpet this time. She had been cleaning Ms. Biel’s house for about a month now, but she hadn’t ever seen anything so strange.