Paranormal Fantasies: A Promotional Collection of 14 Erotic Supernatural Stories

by Charles, N. S.

  “This isn’t really any of your business, you know.”

  “I can help you.”

  Matt stared. Archer met his gaze evenly, still gnawing gently on the chopstick, his lips wrapped obscenely around it -

  Oh, no, this was bad. This was very bad.

  “What do you mean, ‘help?’” Matt stood and tried to back away, but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

  “You know exactly what I mean,” said Archer, calmly. “I’m offering to fuck you so you don’t have to find a stranger. Obviously you need it, you’re as jumpy as…I don’t know, something that jumps a lot. A kangaroo?”

  A hysterical little laugh bubbled up in Matt’s chest and escaped before he could stop it. “And you call yourself a writer.”

  “I’m not expecting you to say yes right away, I’m just saying - think about it.”

  I won’t be able to think at all for much longer, Matt realized, thankful that the table came up just high enough to conceal his erection. He wants to fuck you, he wants to fuck you, HE WANTS TO FUCK YOU. HOW ARE YOU NOT LETTING HIM FUCK YOU. An ever-growing corner of his brain was screaming at him, berating him for being such an idiot, but he just shook his head.

  Archer shrugged. “All right, if you want to see how long you can hold out, that’s no business of mine. But with the way you’ve been acting lately, I predict it’s only a day or two before you throw yourself at me, so you might as well come to terms with it now.”

  The most maddening part about it was how cool and intellectual he was being. Matt wanted to punch him in the face and then grab him by the collar and drag him to bed and not let him out for the rest of the week -

  No, no, no, he was not going to do this.

  He sat back down and scooted his chair in, studiously ignoring the fact that his cock was straining so hard under his pants that it was nearly touching the underside of the table. “We’re not talking about my sex life anymore,” he said. “Back to work.”

  With a slight smile on his face, Archer, began talking about his latest progress. Matt didn’t hear a word. After ten minutes he snuck his hand under the table and squeezed his dick, exhaling sharply at the moment of slight relief that it gave him. He watched Archer carefully; Archer’s eyes were fixed on the screen of his laptop. Matt squeezed again, then rubbed, tiny little motions with his thumb and forefinger around the head of his cock that would be imperceptible above the table. He stared at Archer, at his mouth, his arms, the hunch of his shoulders over the table, the subdued strength of his body, listened to the low rumble of his voice even if he didn’t hear the words. Matt’s whole body was beginning to tense; he felt a rush of adrenaline at the thrill of doing this secretly while Archer sat mere feet away, oblivious. Then, suddenly, the low rumbling stopped.

  “I feel,” said Archer, fixing him with a heavy stare, “like you’re not listening to me.”

  He stood up and prowled around to Matt’s side of the table, leaning over him as if reading something over his shoulder. “What’s so interesting in your lap? I’m terribly curious.”

  Matt felt paralyzed, caged in, the heat of Archer’s body surrounding him.

  “Don’t do this to yourself,” he said. “Let me help you.”

  When Matt spoke, his voice was soft and broken.

  “You don’t understand what’s happening to me,” he said.

  “I don’t need to,” said Archer.

  And he was right. He usually was - which was just one of the many maddening things about him.

  He backed away, letting Matt stand up, and he made a little noise in the back of his throat when he saw what the table had been hiding.

  “Jesus. Matt,” he said, reaching for the zipper. “I’m going to suck you off. All right?”

  Matt nodded, suddenly unable to speak, his mouth desert-dry. Archer sank to his knees, taking Matt’s cock out and sucking it into his mouth without hesitation. Matt gasped at the feeling and grasped Archer by the hair, trying to hold himself upright against the merciless ministrations of Archer’s tongue. He was going to come. “Jack, wait, I -”

  Archer met his eyes and sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the head of Matt’s cock, and he was done for. His orgasm was fast and harsh, knocking the breath out of him, and he collapsed, leaning heavily on Archer’s shoulders, strangely exhausted yet still on fire, still wanting more from somewhere deep inside.

  “Come on,” said Archer, somehow managing to get to his feet and hold Matt upright at the same time. Matt stumbled, and Archer swept him off the ground in a single burst of strength, carrying into the bedroom bridal-style. Matt laughed weakly, squirming, the tingling in his ass getting harder and harder to ignore. Archer dropped him on the bed and undressed him quickly, then stripped off his own clothes; he was hard already, wanting this, which was nice - Matt wasn’t really sure how much of him wanted to fuck his editor and how much of him was just doing a favor, but he wasn’t in any position to care. He rolled over onto all fours, and Archer was on him in a second, rutting up against him, trapping his long dick in the cleft of Matt’s ass. Matt made a sort of purring noise, low in his throat, pressing back at Archer, silently begging. Archer chuckled a little, pressing open-mouthed kisses on his back and sliding his cock up and down, so close to where Matt really wanted him.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Archer whispered.

  “Fuck you,” Matt whispered back.

  Grabbing the lube from the end-table, Archer had his slicked fingers at the entrance of Matt’s ass in record time. Two fingers slid in easily, and he knew just how to crook them to make Matt pant and groan. “You know, I’ve been listening to you for days. It’s been driving me mad.”

  “Eavesdropping is rude,” Matt grunted. The fever felt stronger than ever, but it was a good burn, a slow tingling fire travelling through his veins, lighting him up with pleasure. If he’d had to guess, he would have pegged Archer as a pretty good lay, but this was beyond anything that he could have imagined.

  “There’s condoms in the drawer,” Matt muttered.

  “Getting impatient?” Archer jammed a third finger in, viciously, and Matt’s body arched at the ecstatic burn of it. Then he withdrew his fingers just as quickly, and Matt hissed at the loss until he felt the blunt head of Archer’s dick pressing against his asshole. He pressed back on it, bearing down, feeling it slide inch-by-inch inside him. Archer was hardly moving, just letting Matt take it himself, until he was sheathing completely inside Matt’s ass. Then, grabbing him by the waist, he withdrew and slammed back into him mercilessly.

  Matt yowled, grabbing the pillows for dear life, as Archer fucked him exactly as hard as he wanted. The feeling was incredible, building quickly, and he was almost over-sensitive, almost wanting to tell Archer to stop, but the pleasure was too intense. He came too quickly, again, the orgasm forced out of him by the relentless pounding of Archer’s cock. He let out a series of humiliating noises as Archer fucked him through it, only hesitating when Matt’s asshole clenched so tight that he couldn’t move. Other than that, he didn’t stop, even as Matt sagged, no longer able to hold himself up on his arms, letting his head fall into the pillow, every breath coming out like a ragged sob.

  He’d never let anyone fuck him past an orgasm before, usually feeling too over-sensitized to consider the idea, and he now realized what he’d been missing. Even though the sharp spike of pleasure was over, the more subtle sensations of his climax were still with him, magnified with every thrust of Archer’s ever-hardening dick. It was so intense it almost hurt. He became aware that he’d been letting out a low moan for several minutes now, only stopping to breathe, to whisper yes, harder just in case Archer should get the wrong idea and pause even for a second.

  Archer’s fingers were digging hard into his ribs, every exhale a harsh growl, and then he felt one hand sliding under his chest to raise him back up onto his arms. He still couldn’t manage it himself, but Archer held him up, pulling him close, lowering his mouth to the back of Matt’s neck and nuzzling at it
. Too fuzzy-brained to question it, Matt just shivered and gripped the pillows again.

  Then, a burst of pain - Archer had sunk his teeth in. Not far enough to draw blood, it felt like, but enough to leave a bitch of a hickey on the back of his neck. Matt hissed, and Archer licked the spot as if to apologize. But then he bit down again, harder this time, still just enough to grip the skin, not to break it, but it fucking hurt and Matt didn’t dare say a word lest he stop fucking him.

  The snapping of Archer’s hips had grown more frantic, less measured, and Matt realized he must be close. The thought sent a shock of arousal through him, from the intense pleasure deep in his ass to the sharp pinpoint of pain at the back of his neck, and he realized Archer was going to make him come again, just with a cock in his ass, with Archer’s teeth in his neck, Archer’s fingers making bruises on his torso, every soft growling breath hot in Matt’s ear.

  He came spectacularly hard, more long white spurts of jizz all over the sheets, because during these fevers his body never seemed to run dry. He became aware that he was screaming hoarsely but he couldn’t stop it, not now, not with Archer suddenly losing his rhythm and clawing at his skin, thrusting erratically, growling louder now, biting down harder than ever, until finally, he paused, letting out a long, low noise, and managed a few more sloppy thrusts before he stopped, letting go of Matt’s neck as he did.

  “Christ,” was the first thing Matt muttered, face buried in the pillow again after Archer had let him fall. He touched the back of his neck and brought his hand around to examine; no blood, but a good quantity of saliva - and, no doubt, an impressive bruise would be blooming soon.

  He rolled over and saw Archer standing in the corner, hastily re-dressing, looking at the floor.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Archer just shook his head at first, then finally spoke.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I just have to…”

  He trailed off, leaving the bedroom hastily, and Matt heard the apartment door slam behind him.

  Well, that was peculiar.

  Matt was used to basking in these afterglows alone, so he didn’t really mind - except for the nagging fear that Archer might never come back and finish his bestseller. He pulled some clothes on and went out to the living room to look over what Archer had already written, so at least he’d have some useful feedback to give when (and if) the man ever came back.

  Matt stretched luxuriously in the chair; he really did feel fantastic, better than he’d ever felt during one of these spells. He really wanted to curl up somewhere warm and nap for the rest of the day, but he had to get something done.

  He spent the rest of the afternoon reading; it was good stuff, a sort of modern-day Jekyll and Hyde tale. Until now he’d only heard excerpts as read by Archer, or the story notes and tiny tidbits that he allowed Matt to see, so it was interesting to see how all the pieces fit together. It was getting dark before he knew it, and Matt decided to get himself something to eat. For some reason, the smell of the fish fry down the street was making his nose twitch. He hadn’t eaten seafood in years, but he was craving it now - a stronger craving than he usually experienced for any kind of food.

  After standing in line at the fish fry and walking back home, it was now almost completely dark out and he was beginning to feel very strange. Maybe the smell of the fry-oil had gotten to him. But the fish still smelled incredibly good, so he tore into it, devouring the two fillets quickly and leaving the French fries behind. They just didn’t sound terribly appealing. But, on second thought, they smelled salty, and he was craving salt suddenly -

  At that moment, Archer came walking through the door. If he thought it was odd to find Matt licking the salt off of French fries he didn’t say so, but he did glance at him twice before fixing his eyes on the floor and snatching his laptop away.

  “That’s private,” he said.

  “Oh, boy,” said Matt. “Are we doing this now?” He discarded a soggy French fry and picked up another. “Please, I really don’t want to think that us fucking was a bad idea, so don’t get weird on me.”

  Archer kept refusing to look at him; Matt felt more irritated than usual in his presence, which was saying something. Short-tempered, and suddenly feeling like he was about to crawl out of his skin, Matt stood, handful of French fries clenched in his fist, and snapped, “all right, you work out your own issues, I need to be alone for a while. Preferably forever, if you’re the only company I can have.”

  He stalked off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Moments later he was on the floor, a horrific pain slamming him down, arcing through his body, worse than any fever he’d ever had.

  Oh, this had been a bad idea.

  He kept quiet for as long as he could, but soon he couldn’t stop the pained noises, yowling as he writhed on the floor, the agony seeming to creep into his very skeleton and rip his bones apart.

  Archer burst into the room, kneeling beside him, cradling him as he screamed, but not reaching for the phone, not calling for help. Matt wanted desperately to ask him what the hell he was doing, why wasn’t he calling an ambulance, but all that came out of his mouth was keening. Archer made little, soothing noises and held him through it, whatever it was, until finally the pain began to ebb a little and Matt let himself relax.

  He felt even stranger than before, but at least it didn’t hurt. Reaching a hand up to wipe the sweat from his face, he felt - something - strange -

  Scrambling up to look at himself in the mirror, he shoved Archer away, and saw…

  He wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, actually.

  His face was still his face, but at the same time it wasn’t; it was the face of a giant cat, like a lion, or a leopard maybe? His body, too, had changed, covered in a sleek dark fur, the same color of his hair. He felt strange standing on two legs. And what was that extra appendage he’d suddenly became aware of?

  Oh, right. A tail.

  Standing there in stunned silence, Matt became aware that Archer was looking at him, not with the sort of gaping surprise you’d except from someone who’d just witnessed you transform into some kind of were-cat, but with a wide-eyed smile.

  “What the fuck’s happening to me?” he demanded.

  “It’s just like I thought,” Archer said quietly, almost reverently. “You’re like me.”

  “What?”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Hang on.” He ran out of the room and returned with a small paper bag, the one he’d just brought inside earlier. From it, he removed a small bottle of pills and shook out two into his palm. “Here, take these.”

  Matt looked at him suspiciously.

  “They’ll change you back,” he said. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll last you for the rest of this cycle.”

  “Cycle? What are you talking about?”

  “Obviously you’ve got some version of the same mutated gene that I have. But different. I turn into a wolf.”

  “You’re a werewolf.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you never told me.”

  “Well, you never told me that you go into heat once a month.”

  “I didn’t know that’s what it was!”

  “Obviously your mutation is a lot more dormant than mine was. It took sex with another shape-shifter to bring out the transformation. This is fascinating.”

  “Yeah,” said Matt, staring at his catlike face in the mirror. “Fascinating.” He looked at the pills in his hand and swallowed them, bracing himself for the agony.

  It wasn’t as bad as before, and Archer held him through it again, until he felt human again. As soon as he could talk, he blurted out:

  “How long have you been like this?”

  Archer cleared his throat. “All my life, I suppose,” he said. “I first transformed when I was a teenager, but even before that I had a better sense of smell and hearing than anyone I knew.”

  “And it’s like that all the time?”

  “Yes, but they both get more acute during
a full moon. Believe it or not, there are doctors who specialize in this sort of thing. But they’ve successfully kept it quiet. Most of them are shapeshifters themselves, and they have no interest in dealing with the sociological implications of outing us to the world.”

  Matt considered the pattern of his life: solitary, neat, organized, and ruthless when he needed to be. And he’d always had pretty good night-vision, too.

  This was ridiculous. And yet, there it was.

  “Are those the only…” Matt couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “…wolf-like qualities that you have?”

  “Well.” Archer hesitated. “Earlier today…”

  “The neck-biting,” Matt exclaimed. “Of course! It’s an alpha-male thing, isn’t it? With wolves?”

  “With a lot of creatures,” he said. “Including me. But I’m not usually like that in bed. I don’t get rough. I can repress my instincts, with everyone but you, it seems.”

  “It was just fine,” said Matt. “Trust me.”

  Archer smiled.

  They ate a very late second dinner together after that, in companionable silence. Matt felt languid and relaxed. The fever was still with him, but it was a dull ember in the back of his mind, and he knew he could get another treatment as soon as he needed it.

  “I’ll get you an appointment with my doctor,” Archer said around a mouthful of chow mein. “Get you your own prescription. One a day keeps the transformations away, and two if you miss a dose will get you back to human, right as rain.”

  “You should do a commercial.”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  -

  “It’s fantastic.” Glenn was gushing into Matt’s ear as he attempted to juggle several bags of groceries, his phone, and maneuver his keys into the lock of his door. “I can’t believe it, he’s outdone himself this time. The themes of double lives, of the dark side of humanity, redemption, the twist ending…I was up all night, I couldn’t put it down.”

  “That’s great, Glenn, but I -”

  Just as he was about to drop everything in the hall, his door popped open.