by Bea Biddle
She wondered what he would look like resting there. Did he look dead? Or would there still be a sense of life to him? She didn't get to linger on those thoughts for long, a sound alerted her to movement by the opposite wall. She had to crane her neck awkwardly to see, completely forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be looking in as some sort of creeper.
She was instantly reminded of that fact when she found the source of the noise. Unable to stop herself, she gasped. Against the backdrop of a large tapestry depicting a forest scene, stood a plush, decorative two-seater. On it, Sylvester lounged casually. His silky shirt completely unbuttoned, exposing his pale but lean chest, and his abdomen that rose and fell with every shallow breath he took. He had one arm draped over the back of the sofa, with the ever-present glass of blood dangling from his fingertips. The sight of him was not something that shocked Karen, she had half expected him to be there, after all. It was the sight of the other man in the room that had made her gasp.
He sat on his knees before Sylvester, between the Vamp's conveniently spread legs, with his naked, broad back to Karen. She immediately knew what he was doing, the dark, shaggy mop of hair bobbed up and down in Sylvester's crotch. She clamped her hand over her mouth, praying neither of them had heard her.
Sylvester's sharp eyebrows rose on his forehead, his lips curled into a feral smile as he gazed down at the man between his legs. His heavy-lidded eyes blinked slowly, a seductive action on his handsome face. With his free hand he stroked the man's head, letting the locks of thick hair run through his fingers and fall back down in a wavy mess.
And Karen was trapped. Rooted to the ground with legs that refused to move, her feet were concrete, part of the floor. No matter how much she knew she should go, no matter how badly she wanted to bolt, she couldn't. Something flared inside her, something making her throat constrict and her heart pound faster. It wasn't just the shock, she was sure of it. It washed over her, leaving her skin tingling and her body humming.
The man slid his hands up Sylvester's legs, his palms gliding on the black fabric of the pants, kneading his knees and slowly, ever so slowly, caressing along his inner thighs. The long, pale fingers still entangled in the mop of brown, gently urged him to increase the pace and the head bobbed up and down faster, then slower, taking most of the Vamp, then faster again. Sylvester groaned from deep in his throat as he watched him, licking his lips, exposing his fangs for a second in a smile with a dangerous edge. When he groaned again, rolling his head back on the sofa, still watching intensely, Karen shuddered. A tightening began in her stomach, deep inside where it tingled and teased her. The room around her disappeared, the buzz and hum of the freezers faded, the only thing that existed was the two shapes before her. The sound of a tongue wrapping around skin, the sounds of lips suckling and nibbling, they assaulted her ears until that was all she could concentrate on, all that mattered. It was impossible to look away, she couldn't fight it, couldn't spare it a thought. She stood like a statue, fixated on the two men.
The darker man lifted his head off Sylvester, releasing him, but his tongue still worked the tip until Sylvester's hips bucked on the sofa. Sylvester's face darkened as he pinned him with a glare so filled with desire it made Karen's breath get caught in her throat. His fangs scraped his bottom lip as the dark-haired man licked his way up the ice-blonde's abdomen instead, a slow and steady climb up the pale chest. Karen swallowed a sigh. The sight of the action, so gentle and tender yet so embedded with passion and lust made her feel dizzy. Her own skin pebbled with goosebumps, unable to help herself, she followed the man's trail with her eyes, she could feel the soft, wet tongue on her own stomach. A fire burned inside her, blazing hot and unbearable. She was hot, so damn hot. A longing grew in her, a deep, feral, carnal longing. She curled her fist around the edge of her shirt, trying to control herself, trying to keep still, trying to calm her breathing that came out in short, ragged huffs.
The man left kisses on Sylvester's throat, then his jaw, when he reached his face the Vamp held him still with a handful of hair, roughly pressing their lips together. He took charge. Devouring the stranger, their tongues used as weapons in a battle of dominance, leaving the man whimpering and moaning into the kiss. Karen exhaled in a strangled sob she couldn't hold back. They broke the kiss as violently and abruptly as it had been, the man catching himself before falling to the hard ground.
Sylvester sat back, a twisted smirk on his lips, his eyes shone with lust, sipping his glass casually. “Stand up, Jake,” he ordered softly and watched the man as he did what he was asked. He was tall, much taller than Karen had expected, muscular and lean, his broad back tapered off into a narrow waist hugged by jeans that hung on for dear life as his belt had been undone. “Undress,” Sylvester demanded, his tone firm but pleasant, “Please.”
Jake complied. He knew he was a good-looking man and he unzipped his jeans with confidence, letting them fall to the floor. His boxers followed. And so did the rest of Karen's self-control. Not that there was much of it left. She sighed audibly, the sight of his strong legs, his tight buttocks made her groan in appreciation. And so did Sylvester, he watched in silence, acknowledging the beauty of Jake in sultry, hungry looks. He purred with delight, his lips curving in a lurid smile. His tongue dipped out to lick his bottom lip slowly. Jake swallowed at the sight.
As did Karen, trying hard to swallow the lump in her throat. Her body heat rose, her mind became muddled and fuzzy. She could feel Sylvester's excitement, she could feel his arousal, it was palpable in the room and it assaulted every sense that she had. Every nerve ending she had was singing with it, her very being drawn to the scene before her in a way she had never experienced before.
Sylvester was on his feet, satisfied when the man before him was completely naked. The long-stemmed glass, empty except for a few drops, rolled away on the floor. Sylvester's hands slid over the wide chest, his pale fingers a beautiful contrast to the tan skin stretched over tight muscles. Jake's hands curled into fists at his side. Karen's hands tightened on her shirt. Jake's arms shook with the effort to keep still under Sylvester's skillful touch. Karen's whole body shook, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. She could feel his cold fingertips on her own skin, on her own chest. She couldn't take much more.
Jake's long exhale came out hard. He shuddered. “Sly, I need you,” he pressed out through gritted teeth, the need evident in his voice. He was impatient. Mirroring Karen's feelings. “I need-” Sylvester cut him off with another fierce kiss, pressing their bodies together while still caressing his way down the shapely back, squeezing and fondling everywhere he could reach. Jake moaned into the kiss, his own hands on a journey to explore the Vamp, fumbling with the open shirt and pants Sylvester still wore.
It was too much. Way too much. Karen held herself upright holding on to the doorframe, her nails scratching the wood and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from moaning too loud. She felt drunk, drunk on the lust and the overpowering desire and hunger in the room. Her skin was on fire, her clothes felt tight on her, constricting. She had no idea what was happening, but she couldn't care less, she couldn't concentrate. She needed, she needed something, anything. Her hand found its way under her shirt, long, soft strokes along flesh that felt ready to combust at the merest touch. Her fingertips traced the edge of her bra, it was in the way, it was too tight, choking her. Off, she wanted it off. Her hand stroked the fabric, her nipple under it responded instantly. A hard nub, tingling at the merest touch. It wasn't her hand. It was someone else's. Someone caressing her, feeling her like the men in the room.
Sylvester broke the kiss. Swiftly turning Jake around so his back was to him. Jake didn't fight it, the look of relief on his handsome face depicted only excited anticipation. Sylvester playfully bit his shoulder, licking his skin, as he walked him forward until he reached his coffin. His hands kneaded Jake's shoulders, down his back, and then his shoulders again. “You're quite beautiful,” Sylvester drawled, his tone drenched with heavy passion. “For a Were
,” he added mischievously and nibbled on his neck.
Jake didn't answer, groaned as the sharp fangs grazed along his spine. Sylvester chuckled deep in his throat, the sound reverberated through Karen as if it was her he had pressed against the coffin. Sylvester's hands ran down Jake's arms, laced their fingers when he reached them. He placed their joined hands on the lid that snapped shut, pinning the Were down. He bent him over the coffin slowly, nuzzling the back of Jake's head with his nose. Jake moaned. "You're torturing me," he murmured, pained. "Please."
But Sylvester chuckled, another vibration through Karen's body. With his hand tangled in Jake's wavy mop of hair, he pressed him down to lie flat against the hard, black wood. He held him there with a firm grip by the hair, tracing his fingertips along his spine. Jake purred, groaning in deep yearning for more. Karen mimicked his need, groaning as she too felt the touch along her back. Her hand slipped underneath her bra.
“Please,” Jake begged again. Pressing his cheek against the coffin, his hands on either side of his head, his fingers attempting to dig into the wood. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his face twisted in suffering. Sylvester shushed him and laughed, knowing full well he was tormenting the Were beyond what was pleasurable. He rocked against the naked backside presented to him, making sure Jake could feel his erection pressed against his cheeks. Karen felt herself rock with him, her own hips dancing to the movement. Her hand tightened on the doorframe. Jake moaned loudly, his body shaking with the urgency he felt. He jerked when Sylvester did it again. Pleading with him, this time in a roar, “Please!”
Karen was shuddering, her mind and body both vibrating with the sensual hunger and raw lust so embedded in the air. She couldn't bear it. Blood rushed in her ears, her head felt light and empty.
“Do it!" Someone yelled. The voice, the husky, desperate voice, belonged to Jake but it might as well have come from Karen. She wanted. She wanted so badly with a fiery need that all but consumer her entire being. "Please," he cried, begged, "Please, I need you so..." The rest of the words drowned in the strangled sob of immense relief as Sylvester pressed in a single finger. Jake panted and groaned, trying to rise from the coffin but Sylvester held him down with little coercion, shaking his head, tutting at the Were as if he was being naughty. Jake ignored it, trying to rock his hips again the Vamp's hand. He couldn't take any more teasing. Neither could Karen, she could feel him, feel his desperation, his craving for Sylvester. It was unbearable. Jake moaned loudly as Sylvester began a slow, gentle in and out, cursing the Vamp inarticulately, begging, pleading for more.
More. She needed more. She was lost, falling deeper into the abyss. She couldn't tell where Jake ended and she began. The ghostly touch washed over her, a thousand fingertips caressing her inflamed skin, fondled her further into a fevered state. With a moan she clamped her thighs together, trying to quench the desire that spiked through her. Trembling from the throbbing, pulsating junction between her legs where her underwear bound and pinched her, she panted and gasped and whimpered. More. More. Release. She needed release. She needed-
And then Sylvester raised his head, staring directly at her. Karen froze. Time stood still as their eyes locked. He smiled, it crept slowly onto his face, a dangerous, feral, and worse, a knowing, smile that made a chill run down her back. And then he winked at her.
Reality returned, it hammered Karen back in the present, dragging her violently into the real world. She burst through the surface of a thick, murky sea, finally able to fill her lungs with air. Wanting to scream, she couldn't find the voice to do it. She jerked her hand from her breast, staring at it, wide-eyed and confused. Pushing off the doorframe, she sprang back from it, scrambling on unresponsive legs to the side where she clung to the rocky wall, pressing herself upright against it. What just happened? What had she just done? She panted and coughed while her body returned to her own control. Slapping a hand to her forehead, she stood there, leaning on the cold wall, both embarrassed and unbelieving.
She heard Sylvester grunt and groan. She heard Jake scream out in pleasure, she heard him moan loudly in ecstatic bliss, she heard him cry out Sylvester's name. She heard the coffin's legs scrape along the cement floor repeatedly, harder, faster, the wood groaning from the impact. She swallowed. She couldn't see what was happening in there, but she could imagine it, it was impossible not to, sordid yet erotic images flashed in her mind. It wasn't until Jake howled his release Karen was able to force her wobbly legs to move.
Making a mad dash for the stairs, she took them two at a time. She burst through the kitchen and nearly crashed into the counter. She coughed again, her lungs worked against her, her breath still had not fully returned. She collapsed on a stool. What had she done? What had she watched? Ok, she knew what she had watched, what she didn't know was why? Why had she been so fixated? It made no sense. You are a horrible, horrible perv! she scolded herself. You are complete and utter scum! She buried her face in her hands and let her hair hang like a curtain around her head, a temporary shelter from the world. Sylvester was a friend, and she had watched him, wanted to watch him, she had wanted to- wanted to- She couldn't make herself finish that thought. Instead, she groaned loudly and slumped against the counter.
“Well, well, well. If it isn't our Peeping Tom?”
Karen whipped her head towards the voice in surprise and almost fell off the chair in the process. There stood Sylvester, lounged in the doorway to the kitchen as gracefully and indifferently as always. As if he hadn't just caught her doing what she had been doing. And him not just doing what he had been doing. "I, uhm, came back for this," Karen coughed out and held up her bag as evidence.
Sylvester raised his eyebrow quizzically at her and sauntered behind the counter, standing opposite her, placing a bottle of blood in front of her. She couldn't look him in the eye, she just couldn't, absolutely determined not to. Instead, she focused on his still unbuttoned shirt, the exposed skin of his stomach, the chest so pale that blue veins showed clearly under his skin, but it was impossible to even find that a flaw when he was so beautiful. "Karen?" he asked.
She grunted in response. She could not look up at him.
“Karen,” he pressed. She shook her head. “Look at me,” he then demanded.
Waving goodbye to self-control, she reluctantly did as he asked. But there was no anger in his ice-blue eyes, only amusement. "You could have told me you liked to watch," he said grinning from ear to ear, "Such a little voyeur you are."
Karen scoffed at him. "I do not like to watch," she defended herself. "I don't know why I watched. Why, oh why, did I watch?" she whined as she buried her face in her hands again. She felt humiliated, not only did she do something so unlike her but she had been caught out.
"Don't think I didn't notice your hands, young lady," he said, pulling a whimpering groan from her. "It's alright, Karen. After all, I can't blame you, I'm both dazzling and amazing." He opened his bottle and poured himself a glass.
Karen wiggled her nose at the metallic smell of blood but forced herself to ignore it. "I'm sorry, Sly," she breathed, feeling small and defeated, and still not able to look him in the eye. “I'm not sure what came over me. I really am sorry, I should have left the second I saw you two. Fuck, I'm so sorry.”
He studied her carefully over the rim of his glass, tapping it with his index finger. After what felt like an eternity, he loosened his shoulders and reached behind him to fetch her a glass matching his own. He pushed it at her. Another bottle appeared from under the counter, he poured its red content into her glass. When she sat back, eying it suspiciously he chuckled. "It's red wine, don't worry. Join me for a drink. Or two. Or however many you feel like you need." Karen hesitated but eventually curled her fingers around the stem. "Now, there is something you need to understand, little Kare-bear. I am a vampire, and as such, I have certain-" He waved his hand in the air as if trying to pluck just the right word out of it. "-Gifts," he finished. "You watched me because I wanted you to watch me."
"You didn't f
orce me to watch," Karen said quietly, not understanding him.
"Oh, you poor thing, you have no idea how Vamps work, do you?" He laughed. ”You watched me because you couldn't stop yourself, you got caught up in my glamour. That is what we call it, glamour. It is a vampire's weapon, my dear. Humans get caught so easily in our web, it's almost too easy to dazzle them. They cannot resist, it is near impossible. You would have had to be exceptionally strong to withstand the assault I unleashed on you. Do you remember what happened down there? Do you remember what you felt?”
“You mean-?” Karen rubbed her forehead, trying to take it all in but doing a horrible job at it. “You mean you gave me those feelings? You made me feel that- that...”
“Raw, intense, sexual arousal?” Sylvester finished for her. “That heavenly sensual and wonderfully animalistic lust?” He spoke the words in a purr. She remembered those feelings with a sharp pang of loss. The way they fell from his lips like a caress made her want them back instantly. “My dear, that is only the beginning of what I can make you feel. I can make you fly, Karen, all you have to do is say the word.”
“That wasn't real.” It had been meant as a question, but the second the words left her she realized it was a statement. It hadn't been real.
“I'm afraid not,” Sylvester said with a satisfied nod, taking a large gulp of his blood. “I was just toying with you. I enjoyed toying with you. I think that might actually have been my favorite part of tonight,” he drawled, his voice low and husky, packed with memories of what had just happened.
”That's despicable,” Karen burst out. “You can't do that to someone. I felt- I mean, I thought I- Fuck.” She growled loudly, huffing and snorting at him. “I'm your employee, kind of, and you should not have done that.”
