Blood Sacraments

by Todd Gregory

  I reversed my position and took Curtis’s cock into my mouth. I felt him take mine into his. I took him deeply into my mouth, until I could feel hair against my nose and chin, and he groaned around my cock. There were benefits to needing no breath. I took the length of him into my throat and felt the strong pulse in his thigh against my cheek. My fangs quivered, and I had to pull back or I would have bitten him. As his cock slid from my mouth, I saw that Anders had replaced his tongue with a finger and was gentling himself into Curtis’s warmth.

  He met my gaze and winked. I smiled, showing some fang. Anders’s eyes had darkened, barely noticeable in the glow of the five candles. They would soon blacken completely, and he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer after that. I could already see a slight distortion in the air, like heat over concrete, as the incubus began to draw lightly on our prey’s very essence.

  I shifted again, letting my cock come free from Curtis’s mouth, and once again lay face-to-face with the young man.

  “Anders wants to fuck you now,” I said, and licked at his neck and ear. The scent of the young man, fresh and clean, was driving me closer to the edge. My cock was rigid, and my fangs were slipping further from my gums.

  “Yes,” Curtis hissed, and Anders needed no more than that. Anders rolled onto his back, thick cock standing at attention, unsheathed from its foreskin. Curtis reached past me, into the bedside table, and tugged the drawer open with a jerk. Removing a condom and lube, he rolled onto his other side and tore the package open, then rolled the condom onto Anders’s throbbing cock. Anders put his arms behind his neck, flexing chest and biceps, and smiled at Curtis, eyelids low.

  Curtis’s whole body shivered. I slid behind him, pressing my cock against his thigh. “Lie down on me,” I said, and gently took his shoulders, drawing him on top of me, our cocks touching, his warm chest against mine. I kissed him again and felt Anders work some of the lube into Curtis.

  The weight of Anders pressed against us a moment later, and Curtis pulled out of our kiss to crane his neck back. His eyes were closed, and his neck was right before my face, veins protruding. The orange crystal Curtis wore on his neck winked in the candlelight, dangling between us. I felt my fangs extend completely.

  Curtis flinched as Anders pushed into him, and Anders whispered into the young man’s ear. “Good, that’s good…Relax…Good boy.”

  Curtis winced once, then twice, then nodded. “Okay. God…Okay.”

  I leaned up, and licked the young man’s neck. His cock throbbed against mine.

  Anders pulled back, then moved forward again, sinking deeper into Curtis. Curtis groaned, and Anders let out a long, low, growl. “Fuck…” The demon breathed the word, guttural.

  Curtis pushed back toward Anders, wanting more of him, and slid his cock against mine. The friction was fantastic, and I dug my fingers into the young man’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart for Anders while Anders braced his thick arms beside us.

  The demon met my gaze over Curtis’s shoulder. My lips were pressed against the young man’s neck. Anders’s eyes were a midnight black. He nodded.

  I winked.

  Anders began to fuck Curtis in earnest, with thrusts that ground the young man into me and made him yelp and writhe in pleasure. I nibbled, licked, and sucked at his neck, feeling the hot pulse beneath my tongue. A little longer. I needed to wait just a little longer…

  Curtis braced himself between us, his hands fisted in the sheets, and when I felt his orgasm arrive and the first hot jet of his cum spattered between our stomachs, Anders roared, and I sank my teeth into his neck.

  “Necto!” Curtis yelled.

  Even as the hot salty taste of his blood filled my mouth, I realized something was wrong. I felt my own release, my own explosion joining his, and could feel Anders jerking above us both as he came inside the young man. I arched my back as I hit my peak, swallowed one delicious mouthful of the young man’s blood—it was so potent, so charged with life!—and then felt numbing coils of magic wrap around my limbs and hold me still.

  Anders’s low groan let me know I was not alone. My teeth retracted, and Curtis heaved himself hard to one side, toppling Anders over to the other side of the bed. Curtis yelped as Anders’s cock slipped free, and put a hand to the puncture wounds on his neck that I had made.

  “Wow,” he said, then winced at his neck. Curtis closed his eyes and ran a finger over the wound.

  “Curatio,” he murmured, and the twin punctures scabbed before my eyes.

  “Mage.” I forced the word through lips mostly numb and immobile. I was bound. It was a good spell, a strong one. Too late, things I should have noticed made sense. Curtis’s strong will, not affected by our glamour—a protection spell? The five candles—points of the pentagram centered around the bed, ready to bind a vampire and an incubus. His scent and his blood—overflowing with life. Even the necklace he wore—a carnelian, a crystal that made its wearer more alluring. It was all magic.

  Curtis nodded. “Yes.” He knelt between Anders and me, regarding us.

  “Release me,” Anders said, fury fueling his voice through the binding.

  “Not yet, not till you hear me out,” Curtis said, and raised one hand.

  Anders’s snarl was not particularly agreeable, but Curtis continued anyway.

  “You’re a vampire,” Curtis said to me, then turned to Anders, “and you’re a demon. Incubus, I think. You’re both alone, otherwise you’d be with your fellows.” He paused, looking at me. “I’m guessing your maker didn’t intend to make you, and didn’t present you to the others.” He looked at Anders. “And incubi are supposed to seduce women, so they probably just threw you out on principle.”

  Both Anders and I went silent. Curtis looked down, sadness in his eyes.

  The last piece clicked into place.

  “Orphan,” I managed to say. Curtis was a wizard born not to the magical families that ruled from the shadows. Orphans just happened, young men and women not raised to know magic was a real force.

  “The magic came when I was seventeen,” Curtis confirmed. “The other wizards showed up when I was eighteen. I had no idea what I was doing, what the rules were, none of it.”

  “They killed your family,” I guessed. The more upset he became, the looser the binding. My lips tingled.

  Curtis nodded. “Orphaned in both senses of the word. I’m not allowed to practice magic unless I find a family willing to adopt me.” Anger flared in his eyes. “As though I would go to them after they killed my parents.”

  Anders shifted slightly. The binding was weakening. I felt my fingers twitch.

  Curtis looked up. “The rules. I didn’t know the rules. But I’ve learned them since, and do you know what rules we all have in common?”

  “Vengeance?” Anders suggested, fury still writhing in his voice.

  Curtis glanced at the powerful demon, then shook his head. “No. I understand if you want to just kill me. The binding won’t last forever. But I’m talking about the law of three.”

  I frowned. “That which you do comes back by three?” My feet moved. I needed to keep our prey talking. If I could free myself…

  Curtis blinked at me, then shook his head. “No, not the rule of three, the law of three. I’m not surprised you don’t know it.” He leaned forward, placing his left hand on my chest, his right on Anders’s. “Three wizards make a family. Three vampires make a coterie. Three demons make a clan. Three of us—of any of us—is enough to be protected under their own laws.”

  “So?” Anders snapped. “You’re not a demon, I’m not a vampire, and he’s not a wizard.” He managed to lift one arm from the bed, muscles straining across his chest and shoulder, but then fell back against the duvet again.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Curtis said, speaking quicker now. His hands had started moving in slow circles on our skin. “If the three of us form a group, it’s the same thing. We’re three. Three. Not one, not alone. Think about it.” Curtis turned to me, voice racing. “If you’re
part of a coterie, the other vampires can’t force you. Their dominance won’t work. You wouldn’t have to hide. No more hunting three nights of the month and living off rats and dogs and cats or whatever.” He looked at Anders. “You wouldn’t have to deny yourself most of the time. You wouldn’t be prey to the other clans, their own laws would bind them from slaughtering you just as a diversion. You could fuck all month, sate yourself on souls, stay strong.” Curtis smiled wryly. “Strong enough to beat a basic binding, if you had enough.” He leaned back, removing his hands.

  Anders fell silent. He turned his head to look at me, eyes black with need.

  I looked back, the binding loose enough now to let me tilt my own head. My fangs slid free.

  “Either way,” Curtis said. “I’m done. I’m exhausted. I can’t have the magic and not use it, it’s killing me. And I can’t find another way out of this. So I’m going to release the binding. If you want to, tear my throat out, fuck me senseless…I don’t care anymore.”

  Curtis snapped his fingers and released the spell.

  *

  “Two gin and tonics,” I ordered.

  The bartender turned, met my gaze, and shivered. He was shirtless again, and just as intriguing. I let my glamour cross the air between us like an autumn breeze. He nodded. “Two G and T’s.” It took him a moment to move, then he seemed to come back to himself and poured the two drinks, trying not to be obvious about glancing my way from the corner of his eyes. His confusion was palpable, the scent of arousal a delight in the air I pulled into my lungs.

  I smiled as he handed me the drinks, and paid with a generous tip. He nodded and tucked the change into the front pocket of his jeans. He watched me walk away, carrying the drinks.

  Anders and Curtis sat at the small table—our table—and took the glasses.

  “You’re not having anything?” Anders asked.

  “I think he’s having the bartender,” Curtis said. I winked at him.

  We waited, tense. It was not a full moon. In the past month, we’d done everything we’d needed to do, according to Curtis’s research. I’d shared blood with them. Curtis had taken us through a magical rite. We’d spent a very athletic evening “bonding” with Anders as well—no surprise that incubus demons joined with sex. If Curtis was right, we’d know soon enough. If he was wrong…

  Well.

  “One of your kind,” Curtis said, glancing over my shoulder at the entrance. His glasses—which I’d since learned he ensorcelled to help him spot those of us who were less or more than human—glinted in the dim lights of the bar.

  It was a vampire I knew, and when he realized who I was, his lip curled in distaste. He walked straight to the table, confident and full of a mean amusement. I couldn’t remember his name—not surprising, since I tried so hard to hide from the other vampires—but I knew he was a member of the largest coterie in the city. He was tall, and blond, and lean.

  And angry.

  “This place is mine,” he said, without preamble. “Leave. Now.” I felt the will of his coterie flex from him, swarm against my skin, demanding my obeisance…

  …and dissipate.

  “Non,” I breathed. I smiled, and let my fangs show. “We’re staying right here.” Then, feeling a rush of pure freedom, I added, “You leave.”

  Something happened. Curtis gasped, Anders grunted, and I felt my own will slam into the blond vampire.

  He stumbled back a single step, a stunned look on his face. He opened his mouth, shivering, but said nothing.

  I met the blond vampire’s gaze again, and this time, actively called upon my will. It gathered quickly, snapping into place with a force I couldn’t believe. This wasn’t just vampire. Nor was it just demonic, or magical. It was more. I leaned forward. I felt my will build, a pressure between my eyes that was almost painful, and then repeated myself.

  “Leave.” My will struck out like a thing alive.

  The blond vampire nearly tripped over himself scrambling back, and didn’t stop once he reached the other end of the bar. He was nearly running by the time he pushed through the doors and into the street.

  Curtis stared at the door, his mouth open slightly.

  “I’d call that a success,” I offered mildly.

  Curtis turned to me, mouth still slack. Anders grinned and raised his glass.

  “To not being alone,” the demon toasted. Curtis laughed and raised his own.

  “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” I said, looking back at the bar. The bartender blushed and looked away. “I need to go see about my drink.”

  Under the Full Moon

  Charles P. Tautvid

  It was advertised as a “Leather and Levi” bar but a strict dress code was never enforced. Muscled boys in tight tanks and jeans, cigar-smoking shirtless bears, tourists in shorts and sandals, aging queens in satin shirts, stern slaves in harnesses and leather-brimmed caps and even the occasional painted peacock in blond wig and sequined gown pushed and pawed their way around the dimly lit space. The only light came from the glow of small red lamps that hung from the ceiling along with several flat screens depicting naked men in compromising positions performing uncompromising acts.

  Shadowed in the smoky haze from the lamps and screens, Reid squeezed between a toned, smooth ab and a fat, hairy one and approached the bar. The bar was a large black-wood square ’round which patrons could cruise, checking out the men straddling stools or those positioned in various poses against the walls. Nearly shouting to be heard above the blaring music and cacophony of conversation, Reid ordered a beer and, with bottle in hand, circled the bar sliding past sweating bodies till he reached the back door. Leaving the din behind the door, Reid stepped into the quieter outside patio.

  The patio was warm in the tepid Fort Lauderdale air and almost as smoky and stuffy with the Saturday night crowd. Enclosed by an eight-foot-high wooden fence, the patio was long and narrow with an additional bar, wooden benches and even a pillory for the occasional public flogging. In the far corner by the door was a small set of bleachers. It was here that Reid liked to sit and observe the people and proceedings. As luck would have it, there was an available spot.

  Plopping into the spot, Reid gulped his beer and gazed up at the midnight sky. The black sky was dotted with few stars but the not-quite-full moon was visibly bright. Recalling an astronomy lesson of lost youth, he knitted his brow. “Now, what’s the phase before the full moon called? Waxing…Waxing…Oh, yeah…Waxing gibbous!” Pleased with himself, he returned his gaze to the patio and watched the parade go by.

  Passing directly in front of him, Reid spotted a shirtless old goat undoubtedly in his late sixties. Long strands of white hair lay plastered over a bald spot while a small tuft of curly gray hair drooped wilting between wrinkled breasts. With a lascivious leer, the withered lecher slid his fingers across the well-defined, hairless, bare chest of a handsome young stud leaning against the fence. Like the waxing moon above, the young man appeared to emit an ethereal glow, affecting a seemingly otherworldly air. With a pale moonlit hand, the exquisite youth gently, but firmly and without malice, removed the elder’s paw.

  Observing the scene, Reid was reminded of his own sagging fifty-six-year-old body. He sighed. “Is that gonna be me someday?” As the years mounted, his middle spread, making it harder and harder for Reid to hold in his stomach. Besides the tire ringing his waist, his hair was graying and thinning and his mustache and goatee were interspersed with white hairs. What was even more discouraging was the fact that it was becoming increasingly difficult to attract younger, good-looking men. So it was to Reid’s unexpected surprise to catch the strapping young hunk studying him. Reid, in timid anticipation, smiled weakly.

  Seeing the smile, the sexy stranger returned a wide grin and walked over to Reid. Face-to-face, Reid felt compelled to stare deep into his eyes, eyes that seemed unnaturally dark and fathomless. Lost in those ebony orbs, Reid for a moment felt mesmerized, almost hypnotized. Then, recovering, Reid blinked and simply said, “Hi.�
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  “Hi,” mimicked the young man again, grinning broadly. In that smile, Reid noted teeth that looked dazzling white against pallid yet strangely luminescent skin. The clean-shaven cheeks were smooth and soft over classic chiseled features, and the cleft in his chin seemed to dance when he smiled. The smile was even more accentuated by the medium-length tousled raven hair that framed his face.

  His face was so unnaturally striking that Reid was immediately aroused with both tingling excitement and guarded suspicions. His suspicions raced rampant through his head. “Why would this guy want me? He’s obviously only in his twenties. Very good-looking. Aggressive. Not drinking anything. Must be a hustler.”

  As if reading Reid’s mind, the alluring colt affirmed, “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not a hustler.”

  Ignoring Reid’s embarrassed, feeble laugh, the young beguiler offered his hand and introduced himself. “My name is Atan.”

  “Atan?” repeated Reid, not sure he had heard right.

  “Yes. It’s short for Atanasio.”

  Taking his hand, Reid was seduced by Atan’s sturdy, sensual grip. “I’m Reid,” he stammered.

  Instead of the usual “what are you up to” line, Atanasio asked, “What does the moon tell you tonight?”

  A bit baffled, Reid responded, “Well, it’s not quite full, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I watched you staring at the moon before.”

  “You…watched me.” Reid scoffed, though only half kidding. “Now, what does a good-looking young guy like you see in an old man like me?”

  “I’m not as young as I look. So I don’t think like a young man.” Atan paused as if for effect. “I’m really two hundred fifteen years old.”

  “Well, you look damn good for your age.”

  “It’s no joke.” Atan became deadly serious. “I’m a vampire.”

  Reid immediately thought, “Here we go. I always meet all the nuts.” But he said aloud in a slightly mocking tone, “Nice to meet you, Dracula.”