by Todd Gregory
Exhilarated and exhausted, Reid rested completely spent beside Atan who, propped on one elbow, regarded him with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Well?” posed Atan smugly.
Before replying, Reid fingered the two tiny holes where the fangs had pierced his skin. The minute wounds were ever so slightly sore but virtually painless.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had!”
Atan brushed back his hair with his free hand in a gesture of boastful vanity.
Reid paused to exhale a contented sigh.
“I guess,” he continued. “I should give you my number. Maybe we can get together a—”
“No!” Atan interrupted emphatically. “I never see anyone twice.”
“Why not?” demanded Reid disappointedly.
“We vampires are a solitary, territorial lot. And we live forever. I don’t get involved with humans.”
“It must get pretty lonely?” Reid implored.
Atan turned away.
“Nah,” he remarked with wary disregard. “There’s so many of you, it doesn’t matter.”
Reid quietly studied the now sullen vampire.
Breaking the uncomfortable silence, Atan insisted, “You’d better go now.”
Reid soundlessly dressed. As he finished tying his shoes, he looked up to see Atan, still naked, standing by the door, waiting. Ogling that shimmering and inviting physique, Reid was instantly overcome with uncontrolled desire. On impulse, he strode over to Atan and wrapped his arms tightly around the vampire’s irresistible torso.
Pressing against him, Atan could feel Reid’s quickening heartbeat pumping its precious elixir throughout Reid’s pulsating body. With supernatural senses, the immortal could smell the warm, fresh blood. The temptation was too overpowering. Extracting his fangs, he plunged them into Reid’s exposed neck. With unquenchable thirst, Atan sucked in furious abandonment.
Reid tried to scream but could not. He could feel the life draining out of him. In panic, not knowing what else to do, Reid bit into Atan’s throat and drank. And drank. And drank.
Never Forever
Rob Rosen
I’d been hiking all day, over steep terrain, across beautiful countryside, seemingly alone. I suppose I got a bit turned around, lost. Not too frantic, but just enough; just enough to lose my bearings, to trip, to fall. The earth sped by, brown blurring with endless green before suddenly turning to black. Deep, dark, pitch black. Then white, a pinprick that grew and grew, nearly blinding me.
I awoke, cold, naked in a strange bed, the room massive, the moon’s rays pouring in through the window. I sat up, scratched my head, felt the wound. No blood. No pain. Just cold, endless cold, infinite cold. I stood up and walked around, oddly light on my feet, my hand caressing the wood furniture, the granite countertop, hard, unyielding. I heard a floorboard creak and I froze, watching, waiting, breathing in, breathing out.
The door slowly opened. I backed an inch away, crouching down to hide my nudity. He entered, the smile on his face suddenly cast in silver light. “You’re awake.” The voice deep, rumbling, like a rushing river across heavy stones.
“I, um, yes, looks that way,” I managed, my eyes locking on to his as he made his way inside, standing before me, dressed all in black, tall, stunning. Not like any man I’d ever seen before. “But, um, how did I get here?”
The smile widened, teeth a shocking white, eyes smoldering like cinders. “You fell, hit your head. We found you.”
“We?” I asked, trying to look away. Trying and failing.
He nodded, his hand reaching out. I took it, flesh on flesh, a spark running up my spine like wildfire. Fire minus the heat. “I am Steven,” he replied, helping me to my feet, effortlessly. “My brother Nathan and I found you.”
I stared deeper into his eyes, the draw unworldly, mesmerizing, tantalizing. “How?” I asked, barely in a whisper. “I was out hiking up the mountain. No houses for miles. None as big as this one seems to be.”
He closed the gap between us, eye to eye, lips mere centimeters apart, his hand on my shoulder now, firm, reassuring. “You lost a lot of blood.” The word stretched out into a groan, my cock stirring at the sound of it, at the proximity to him. Pounding, arcing out, up.
I felt for my wound, reflexively. “No blood now, though.”
Again the smile. Again the nod. In the blink of an eye, the gap closed further still, his lips on mine, soft like down, a tongue darting out, pushing inside, invading, entwining with my own, a moan escaping. His or mine, I could no longer tell. His mouth pressed flush, his strong arms encircling me, naked flesh against cool silk. He pulled away, eyes aglow. “We healed you, Eric,” he whispered into my mouth, an icy exhale that invaded my lungs, ripping through my body like a tornado.
“You know my name?” I asked, my body against his, my arms around his narrow waist, my tongue gliding languidly up his neck.
“We know all there is to know,” came the cryptic reply, his head tilted to the side now, alabaster skin exposed, a throbbing blue vein beneath my slithering appendage, a hunger manifested, multiplied, monstrous.
“I lost too much blood,” I stated, suddenly aware of what had happened, that knowledge, and only that, suddenly present inside my head.
“Too much to survive,” he purred, pulling me in, my teeth at once jagged, razor sharp, piercing his flesh in a glorious instant, the taste of blood all consuming as he flowed inside me, a raging river of life. The moan repeated, both of us this time, his eyelids fluttering as I fed, sucking, suckling.
Sated, for the time being, I retracted my fangs, pulling away, slightly, just slightly. “I feel you,” I told him, a temporary calm welling up. “Inside of me, I mean.”
He reached over, his hand upon my cheek, a soft caress. “Yes, Eric. In one way, yes.”
I stared into his eyes, an endless depth of need and want clearly evident. “In one way?”
He smiled, his cape falling to the floor, the black shirt unbuttoned, yanked out from black slacks, parted open to reveal white flesh, nearly translucent, perfect as polished marble, nipples rigid, just as white, just as perfect. An ancient statue now animate. “Would you like to see the other way?”
I nodded, the hunger returning, ravenous. “Show me, Steven.” I lay on the bed, my cock ramrod straight, thick now with his blood.
The shirt joined the cape on the wooden floor, his torso fully revealed, completely unmarred, a smattering of ebony hair trailing down between finely chiseled pecs. All muscle and sinew. White, so very white. He inched in toward the bed, his hand deftly unbuttoning his slacks, his boots kicked off. He bent down, sliding off his black leggings before yanking down his pants, leaving him in red briefs, a devilish twist to his wardrobe that sent my grin northward.
I sat back up and cupped his crotch in my hand, feeling him pulse beneath the material that I eagerly and swiftly pulled down and off, his cock springing out, thick and veined, the wide head slick, leaking salty jizz, the acrid aroma wafting up my nostrils. I engulfed him whole, the length and width of him filling my mouth as he shoved his way inside my throat, sending a happy gagging tear cascading down my cheek.
“Yes,” he moaned, his fangs exposed, long, saber-like.
I stared up at him while I sucked him off, his face handsome, chiseled, unearthly. His body much the same, even more so. I popped him out of my mouth, unable to wait a moment longer. “Fuck me, Steven,” I pled, nearly in a whimper.
He stared down, a tender stroke across my face by long, tapered fingers, nails like miniature daggers, the pain exquisite. I leaned back, my legs up and out, ass on the edge of the bed, hole exposed, beckoning him in, hungry, ready for the onslaught. He moved up, his steely cock battering up against my portal. In an instant, a heartbeat, if I still possessed one, he was inside me, sliding his way to my farthest reaches as I sucked in my breath, ravaged by absolute ecstasy, the likes of which no mortal man could ever dare imagine.
He leaned in, his body over mine, his hand stroking my cock as
he mashed his mouth into my mouth, lips splayed, tongues slithering together as one, while he fucked me slow and steady, hour after hour after glorious hour. To say it was divine would be sacrilege; saying otherwise would be the same.
“Come with me, Eric,” he repeated. “Come with me.”
I sensed he meant something deeper, but took it on a baser level, waiting patiently, joyously, for him to fill me with yet another of his bodily fluids. “Now,” I growled, biting down on his lip, a stream of blood eddying around my aching throat as he bucked his cock inside my hole, his heavy balls banging against my rump, my prick exploding in a torrent of cum, spewing across my belly and splattering his chest, his load streaming inside my ass, as life-giving as the blood, his blood, that coursed through my veins.
He collapsed on top of me, sweat-soaked, his mouth mashing into mine, his eyes open, locked, invading my very soul while I panted beneath him, desperately trying to catch my breath, his hands running rampant across my skin, mapping out uncharted territory.
He turned me over, wrapping me in his arms, his prize, but sunrise soon approached. I sensed it was not for us to witness. He left as he’d arrived, quietly, not another word said or needed, just the smile, just those eyes on mine. I quickly shut the curtains tight, casting the room in a gloomy pall. I was asleep in seconds, a dreamless, cold, forsaken sleep, disturbed only when the moon once more made its inevitable appearance.
I sprang up to find I was no longer alone, feeling his presence before actually seeing him there.
“Hello,” he said, sitting in a chair by my bed, looking much like his brother, perhaps a few years younger, white hair instead of jet black, his features a tad more severe, still just as perfect. He was naked, erect, stroking his club of a dick as he stared at me, balls rising and falling, a hunger cast menacingly across his face.
I nodded. “You must be Nathan.”
He leered down at me, his teeth pearly white, sharp. “And you are Eric.” He stood, taller than his brother, leaner. “Now that we have that settled, remove the sheet.”
I did as he commanded, my cock now revealed, already at full mast. He spanked the shaft, sending my tool swaying, then lifted my legs, smacking my hole before his mouth dove in for a savage suck and slurp, violent where his brother was tender, yet no less intoxicating. A finger joined his tongue, two, three, all pumping away inside my ass as his free hand came crashing down on my stomach, my chest, a yank and a pull on a nipple, twisted until blissfully bruised.
My head tilted back, mouth open, fangs out, sharp, lethal, saliva dripping down as he thrust his digits in and out, in and out. He laughed as he assailed me, the sound drowned out when his mouth found mine, the fingers replaced by his massive cock, rammed in without prelude, popped out lightning fast, shoved in again, and again, and again. Pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure, interchangeable.
He moaned, loudly, his face twisted to the side now, his neck mine for the taking. I sank my teeth in deep, deeper still, his blood flowing in, his cock filling my hole, our bodies, our very souls, united in a writhing tangle atop my bed.
“Now come,” he grunted, sweat dripping from his pale brow, the salt mixing with the blood, the taste like ambrosia.
He bucked a final time while I jacked my prick, both of us shooting mighty loads of cum, thick, viscous, copious amounts, the sticky mess pooling beneath my chest, dripping out of my ass, both of us moaning and groaning, shaking the very rafters above our heads.
Breaths caught, the foray continued, the black and blue welting up, only to quickly heal, his cock steely for hours on end, filling my holes with wild abandon. All this I took. All this I gave back in return. Tit for tat, spank for slap, fuck for fuck. I hated this man as much as I desired him. Hated him as much as I felt for his brother. Strange, so very strange, as if I’d known them forever, was meant to be there.
Once more the sun, the bane of our existence, loomed just beyond the horizon, ready to make an appearance I feared I’d never witness again, its warm rays never to touch my skin, never to dapple across my face. Nathan hurriedly left. I slept, falling dead away, dreamless.
This ritual continued, year in and year out, decades into my servitude. I’d awake to find one of them by my bed, never both. My life was at their disposal. Their desires, my desires. On occasion, they’d take me hunting with them. More often than not, I simply fed off them during the throes of passion. It was an odd existence, if you could call it that. Never alone, I was still lonely. Never hungry, I always hungered. Never tired, I longed to sleep, to dream once more.
I learned little of the brothers, how they came to be, though I knew that one of them had rescued me from certain death, changing me just before the last drop of essential blood seeped from my wound. I, however, was their only creation. Except for me, when they fed, they killed, slaughtered, obliterating any traces of their existence.
Still, I knew their story, and I dreaded what I knew I must do in order to alter it.
Wood was evident throughout the house. I crafted my salvation from something that would not be missed. Waking to find Steven by my bedside, I asked if I could hunt with them that evening. They never denied me my wishes, what few I had; that night was no different. No different, that is, except that everything would in fact be different come sunrise. I’d grown as strong as them over time, strong enough to know that my plan would work, must work.
I lifted the stake above my head while they fed, when they were at their most vulnerable. They stared up, blood dripping from their gaping maws, resignation more than shock on their pale faces.
“Which one of us will you kill, Eric?” Steven asked. “Which one will you kill before the other returns the favor?”
I smiled, staring into his eyes, willing my thoughts into his head. He smiled in return, his reddened teeth glinting in the moonlight as I brought the stake down, the sharpened wood piercing his chest in an instant, his lifeless body crumpling over his prey as a sudden burst of wind rushed over his brother and me. The deed was done, a new ending to their story unfolded.
A pause. We watched each other. Waiting.
“How did you know?” Nathan finally asked, rising, his normally pallid cheeks suddenly tinged with red.
“The eyes are the windows to the soul,” I replied. “He could hide little from me.”
Nathan nodded, solemnly, knowingly. “You loved him, didn’t you?”
I pondered the question and echoed the nod. “In my own way, yes.”
He moved toward me, no fear that he would be my next victim or I his. “And he loved you as well, in his own way. Which is why he changed you. I think he knew this would all happen. It is why he changed me, too, to bring me along with him through time, to make his existence less lonely. You, however, made it something more than that.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “But why not kill me instead of the one you so adored?”
I touched his cheek, warmth at long last flowing through both our bodies. “One must kill the progenitor to restore the followers; and we, Nathan, have been restored, followers no longer.”
Again he nodded. “And will you leave me now, Eric? Leave me as he has left us?”
I held his hand, leading him out of the forest. “No, Nathan, I will not. You are all I have left of him.” I turned to face him, the smile returning yet again. “But when I dream, and oh how I long for that moment, I will see his face, see the endless abyss in his eyes, his insatiable desire for me, and I will remember him, forever and always.”
Though forever, of course, had been obliterated for the three of us. It was a forever we were never to have.
The Celtic Confessional
Davem Verne
Insula sacra!”
The monk’s voice filled the hollow oratory.
“My holy island! Protect me from the heathens invading your shores!”
Brother Dónal remained inside the stone oratory that evening, fasting and illuminating a sacred manuscript. The shadows against the stone walls attended him and a damp d
raught penetrated his flesh. He fastened the rope around his habit in a restraining knot and listened to the crash of the sea against the rugged coastline outside. For hundreds of years the embattled cliffs along the West Coast had defended the island from barbarians. But tonight, the Normans were drawing near. They came by sea, as the Celts had come long ago, in the hopes of sacking Ireland.
Quickly, Brother Dónal composed a letter to the Bishop in Dublin. His pen quivered. The short, lean strokes trembled across the parchment. He was brief, outlining the situation and no further, afraid an elaborate letter would disturb the Bishop. In the stone oratory, Brother Dónal worshiped without supervision and his unorthodox practices were tolerated from afar. The Monastery knew of his proclivities; word had spread among the Brothers. His intimate knowledge of the pagan population was evidenced on the manuscript page by obscure Celtic symbols which were forbidden by the Church.
“Inishmore and the Aran Islands are conquered!” he wrote without breathing. “The barbarous Normans travel in fishing boats, surprising and attacking the mainland. Forget about me! I am already captured, enslaved by the primitive rites of these heathens! Your Grace, heed this warning. Protect Dublin!”
The pyramid-shaped oratory, which three generations of monks had built on the isolated coastline, now crumbled stone by stone with every lashing of the wind. Brother Dónal prayed for deliverance. He prayed for protection. The demonic world was strong this evening; he could sense the rapport it shared with Satan. Depraved souls and the Devil’s tireless legions were occupying the land, bringing with them all manifestation of evil. In his anxiety, he thought he heard the sound of copper helmets in the distance and the clank of iron swords marching towards his chamber. The Normans are coming! But it was only the rain striking the iron crosses in the cemetery…
For a moment, his heart weakened and Dónal felt his soul slip by. He closed his eyes and begged for mercy from the pagan gods. In betrayal of his true faith, he implored the vulgar servants to watch over him. Surely they knew the countryside better than the Saints; surely they had means to quell the oncoming storm. Alone and in their dark company, Dónal entertained a host of tragic endings for Ireland, such as enslavement by the Norman lords or blood sacrifices in nearby villages. The offences to Irish body and soul would only be the start of the Devil’s perdition!
