Leonardo di Caprio is a Vampire

by Julie Lynn Hayes

  "Of course, I'm serious. Hunter, I'd do anything for you. And I'm selfish too, I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever. You're too much a part of my life." Fisher's forehead puckered as he tried not to panic at the idea of losing Hunter. This was too important to both of them, and not something to be lightly tossed off, as Hunter was so accustomed to doing with most serious subjects. He watched Hunter's face carefully, certain that he was debating the matter internally. Surely common sense—and hunger—would win out.

  "Sure," Hunter agreed, and Fisher released his pent-up breath, gratefully.

  Now they could move on to other matters.

  "I promise I'll show you more next time, baby," Hunter whispered, punctuating every other word with a kiss to Fisher's cock, "but for right now we'll take it slow. Relatively speaking." His blue eyes were twinkling, which only served to make Fisher's cock twitch in anticipation.

  "Are you comfortable the way you are?"

  "Yeah, fine."

  Hunter laid a last tender kiss, running his hand along Fisher's length. "I think you're wet enough to do it," he gauged. "If I get too heavy, or if you don't like the way it feels, just tell me, okay?"

  Fisher nodded, although he didn't have the least idea what Hunter was talking about, or what he intended to do.

  Hunter caressed Fisher's legs until they were relaxed, pressed flat against the bed, kissing each knee before he did. He straddled Fisher's slender form, positioning his long lean frame above him, while Fisher watched every move he made with complete and utter fascination. He reached beneath him for Fisher's cock, held it lightly with one hand, as he guided it toward his own entrance.

  "Let me do all the work," he cautioned Fisher, lowering himself slowly on his hardness. "Just relax and keep breathing…"

  Fisher was stunned. He had certainly not expected this, not in a million years. He felt as if Hunter had just offered him the most precious gift ever, in the form of his own body. As Hunter eased himself down onto Fisher's cock, he felt the tight muscles which ringed his lover's hole as they clung to him, almost resistant to what it was that he and Hunter were trying to do. He heard Hunter gasp.

  "What's wrong?" Fisher gazed up at him in alarm. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No, no… hang on."

  Fisher could hear Hunter release his breath in painfully short pants, like he was trying to breathe above his pain. He couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. He tried not to tense up, waiting as patiently as he could manage, his eyes never leaving Hunter's face. If he thought the pain was getting worse, he'd push him off if it came to that, rather than see him suffer.

  Hunter stilled all movement, one hand lightly grasping Fisher's cock, the other balancing himself. "Need to adjust, that's all, it's all good." Gradually, his breathing evened out, becoming less labored, and he began to move slowly, but surely, impaling himself on Fisher's hard cock.

  Fisher watched in amazement as he was slowly swallowed up inside Hunter's body. He felt as if they were merging, the two of them, into one being. Inside Hunter was warm, moist, soft and tight, a delicious mix of sensations that left Fisher gasping in amazement. He felt Hunter's tight muscles gripping him. It was a pleasant tightness. As if they were built with one another in mind, the perfect fit. That was it. They fit together like an intricate lock and key. The analogy made him smile.

  "Aaaaaaaaah," he moaned in ecstasy. He slid his hands down Hunter's back, where they found purchase on his perfect ass.

  "Go ahead, baby, touch all you want," Hunter encouraged him. He hadn't changed his position, and remained firmly entrenched upon Fisher's cock. Fisher's hands busied themselves in rubbing, stroking and kneading that firm flesh, a beatific smile reaching his lips.

  "Oh god, Hunter," he managed at last, "you feel incredible." He gazed up into those fabulously blue eyes in complete adoration, an emotion mirrored in Hunter's eyes.

  "Yeah, you do too," Hunter echoed earnestly, "very, very incredible. Baby, put your legs up a little more, so I can… oh yeah, that's good." He leaned partially back against Fisher's thighs, using them for support, maneuvering himself so that he could slide with greater ease up and down that thick cock.

  "Sure that doesn't hurt, Fisher?"

  "Oh God no."

  Fisher was forced to move his hands with the slight change in their positions. He placed them on Hunter's gyrating hips instead, feeling them undulate as Hunter moved. God, but that was sexy. His eyes were fastened upon the beautiful sight. Yet he wanted to do more than just receive. He wanted to give something back to Hunter as well. As Hunter impaled himself, rising and falling in a smooth rhythm, grinding himself against Fisher's groin, Fisher noticed his very swollen, very unattended cock. He glanced at Hunter, whose head had rolled back slightly. His eyes were closed, his lips lightly parted, and Fisher was enchanted by what he saw.

  Impulsively he reached for that weeping cock, daring to be bold for once in his life and take something that he wanted—that something being Hunter Long. He wrapped one hand about that long lean shaft. God, that was so sweet, having Hunter's flesh pulsating in the palm of his hand.

  "Oh, yeah." Hunter gave his approval as Fisher tightened his grip, exploring the head of Hunter's prick with his thumb, grazing it across his slit, fascinated by everything having to do with him. He knew Hunter so well, and yet at the same time, he barely knew him at all. And he wanted to get to know him, inside and out. Which meant also dealing with this vampire thing, making it his own.

  Fisher was stroking him in earnest now, wishing to bring Hunter to a climax. He had a feeling his own was all too close. What was the proper protocol for this? Was he supposed to give a warning of some sort—orgasm ahoy? Here I come? Or maybe the ever popular, timber! He didn't have time to decide. He felt the most glorious sensation inside of him. It began as a tightening in the center of his balls, gradually radiating outward, flowing along every nerve ending he possessed until it reached his cock, at which point he simply exploded, filling his partner with his hot seed. Fisher inadvertently squeezed his hand tighter about Hunter's cock as he orgasmed, coming in hot gasping spurts, Hunter's name falling from his lips.

  Hunter arched into his orgasm, tightening his muscles even more about him, milking him hungrily. Fisher continued to stroke him, mindlessly, caught up in what he was doing, as Hunter bucked into his hand.

  "Oh God, Fisher, yes, keep it up," Hunter moaned.

  Fisher felt the power of the flesh inside his grasp as it quivered and throbbed. This felt so very right, how could anyone say otherwise? He loved Hunter, and he intended to spend the rest of his life proving it to him.

  Starting with this moment.

  "Bite me," he commanded.

  "What?"

  "I said bite me, Hunter. Now." He continued to pump Hunter's quivering cock. He could actually feel the other's need in him, now that he was looking for it, and he steeled himself for it, turning his head to allow his lover better access. He didn't want to watch, but he didn't think that would be necessary.

  He felt the shift in Hunter's weight, felt Hunter's mouth, warm upon his neck, even as he felt Hunter erupt in his hand, releasing an exultant howl, the twin sensations fusing into one overwhelmingly sensual excitation. Hunter's lips were sending shivers down his spine. Fisher grabbed his head, digging his fingers into those soft locks, his body vibrating intensely.

  Hunter raised his head, took a breath. Fisher could see ribbons of scarlet which fell from his lips, and he was fascinated by the deep hue of the drops. Too late he realized what it was. Surprisingly, the sight did not make him nauseous. Maybe because he knew it was for Hunter's benefit, so it was okay.

  Hunter ran his tongue around his lips, taking every last drop, before falling onto Fisher. They wound their arms about one another, their lips meeting, meshing, melding. Fisher didn't even care that he could taste blood or that it was his own blood. Life was too good to care about something like that.

  They lay together for several minutes without speaking, until Fisher br
oke the silence.

  "Hunter?"

  "Hmmmmm?"

  "We really need a shower. Seriously."

  Hunter began to chuckle. He buried his nose carefully against Fisher's neck, his tongue laving the area where two tiny wounds could just be seen, already puckering, sealed against further bleeding.

  "Want to take one together?" Hunter asked.

  "Only if I get to wash first."

  "How about I wash you?"

  Fisher still possessed the ability to blush. The things that man could do to him. He couldn't wait to see what else they could do together. "Sounds like a plan to me," he agreed. They raced each other to the shower, laughing all the way.

  Epilogue—Halloween Night

  "Are the candy bowls filled?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "What about the outside light, is it on?"

  "It's on."

  "Good. Did you use all the candy?"

  "Yes, dear."

  "Think we should get some more?"

  "No, dear."

  Fisher stuck his head out the door of his room. "You dressed yet?"

  Hunter stood there, leaning against the wall, grin affixed upon his lovely face, watching his fussy lover nitpick about the Halloween preparations. The ones he had never wanted to participate in before. Not until this year. Hunter couldn't stop smiling.

  "What does it look like?" he asked, smirking.

  Fisher blushed, taking in the sight of his beautiful lover who was, indeed, quite dressed. And dazzlingly so. No pun intended. He was garbed as a vampire, but not one of the popular ones that were currently making the rounds, either in film or television. No, Hunter Long was, and always would be, his own man. A true original.

  He looked like he stepped out of a period film about the French Revolution. Lace and frills and gold threaded suit, powdered wig. Even a beauty mark beside his lips. Fisher couldn't help but whistle in open admiration.

  Fisher stepped out of his room. Their room now, technically. Every room was theirs, of course, but they had decided they would share this one, since it was slightly bigger, and the bed was definitely bigger. And the bigger the bed, the more… Yes, definitely they were going to share this room.

  Hunter had tried to talk him into going as Marie Antoinette, but he had given Hunter a no-nonsense look and refused. And yes, on the actual day of Halloween, for those who procrastinated until the last minute, all they were likely to find at the costume outlets and rental stores were slim pickings. But Hunter had connections, and so Fisher was not left having to choose between going as SpongeBob SquarePants (he didn't even know who that was, not being a cartoon aficionado) or a French maid in a frilly apron (Hunter even vetoed that one). Instead he ended up dressed as a Confederate soldier in a light grey uniform, with gold buttons, and a red sash, complete with rifle and bayonet. He had spent some time admiring himself in his mirror, impressed with the overall effect. He liked the way it looked. Now he wanted to know what Hunter thought about it.

  "The uniform fits nicely," Hunter noticed, straightening up from the wall, as he leaned in for a kiss.

  "It does," Fisher admitted. "I like it."

  "You look good in it," Hunter complimented him.

  It had been an unusual day for them both. Fisher had considered calling in sick when the alarm went off, rather than having to deal with what he knew awaited him at the office. Or what Lana said awaited him. He wouldn't know if was true until he went. It was Hunter who convinced him to go, actually.

  At breakfast, Fisher was too keyed up to eat, after the events of the previous night. Hunter made him some toast and didn't press him into eating anything else. Toast was better than nothing.

  "Why don't you go to work, see what the old man wants?" he suggested. "Listening doesn't cost anything, you know."

  "Why? I already know I don't want to transfer to San Diego, or anywhere else. I want to stay right here. With you."

  Hunter drew the obstinate Fisher into his arms, and held him close, as they swayed together lightly. "Why? I'll tell you why. Because it never hurts to find out what you're worth in someone else's eyes, that's why. Then you know how much to ask for if you decide to go with someone else."

  Mister Long was certainly being logical today. Kudos to him for that.

  "I guess that makes sense." Fisher frowned, creasing his forehead.

  "It does." Hunter's breath was so warm on his ear. Damn, he was making it hard to get going. As usual. But at least now it was nothing Fisher had to suffer through alone, it was out in the open. Finally. "We can talk more about that after you talk to him."

  "Why? What about?" But Hunter refused to say.

  They compromised on a half day of work each, meeting at home for lunch and costume shopping for Fisher.

  At the office of MWH&F, he knocked on the editor's door promptly at 9 o'clock, and was admitted into the presence of the man himself, Mr Sheldrake, Lana's father, although he tried to forget that, and focus on the fact that this was his boss. The meeting was cordial, and didn't take very long. Due to economic pressure and nothing personal, he told Fisher, he was downsizing this office, but he had openings in some of his others. Including the San Diego branch. And he would like to give Fisher the opportunity to transfer to one of them. He didn't specifically mention the managing editor position which Lana had spoken of. Fisher took that as a definite sign that she was, and always would be, a liar.

  The decision was a no-brainer. He thanked his now former employer, shook his hand, and then went to his desk and gathered up his stuff, almost in a state of shock. Not only because he was unemployed, but because he'd actually found the nerve to say no to someone. He had considered what he wanted, for a change, and because of it, he was out of a job. He hadn't been unemployed since he was a teenager; he'd always worked at something. He ran into Holly on his way to the elevator. "Come by the house tonight," he told her when she clamored for details and she promised that she would.

  Once he had met Hunter back at the house, and told him of the morning's events, he felt himself folded into those strong arms. Hunter didn't seem unduly upset, despite the fact that their income was cut in half, and they had bills to pay. Fisher didn't understand that attitude, but there was no time to discuss it. They had things to do, places to go. No time to discuss a bleak and/or uncertain future. Besides, they were together, right? That had to count for something.

  Hunter'd already bought his costume, some time ago. He reminded Fisher of this, as they zigzagged about town, searching for Fisher's costume until they got a lucky break, "If you weren't so damn stubborn, I could have got one for you too."

  Fisher had no ready answer for that, other than to stick out his tongue, which proved to be a mistake, as Hunter took it into his own mouth and kissed him until he was weak in the knees.

  Now it was Halloween night, not a cloud in the sky and no mention of any rain in the forecast. They were preparing for the onslaught of costumed youngsters seeking sweet treats, no doubt expecting Hunter's usual Halloween extravaganza. They would be arriving any moment. Fisher's stomach was doing flip-flops. He worried that he wouldn't be able to pull this off. Maybe Hunter should do it alone. He made the mistake of suggesting that very thing.

  "Nonsense, you'll be fine," Hunter reassured him. "Let's talk." He pulled Fisher onto his lap on the sofa, one eye trained on the door, despite Fisher's protestations that they had no time.

  "We'll make time," he said, and Fisher realized he couldn't wriggle out of it, so he gave up.

  "Look," Hunter began, "I know you're upset about losing your job, and rightly so. What he did was wrong."

  "I bet Lana put him up to it," Fisher conjectured.

  "That could be, I think you may be right. It wouldn't really surprise me."

  "Hunter?"

  "Hmmmmm?"

  "Last night, when we were standing outside, just before Lana and her band of pyros came out," Fisher had wondered about this ever since, and he wanted to find out the answer, "what were you going to tell me?"r />
  Hunter chuckled, a sound that was almost a purr, and Fisher thought it seemed like a rather complacent purr at that. "I was trying to work up the nerve to tell you I loved you and always had," he admitted.

  Fisher was completely stunned.

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  "Then, when Lana came out… I mean, the way she acted, I was sure you and her were together, why didn't you… "

  "What could I do? You ran off, remember? I called you, but I guess you didn't hear me, over the crowd."

  So Fisher hadn't imagined what he'd thought he heard. "What was Lana doing, saying you were engaged?" he wanted to know, frowning.

  "I dunno, she never mentioned it to me. I think she knew better. Probably something she came up with to entertain her friends. As soon as you left, I shook her off and went inside, but I couldn't find you, not right away. Not until I caught you on the patio, literally."

  Fisher leaned his head on the shoulder of Hunter's ornate costume. "I was afraid you were going to tell me you loved her and wanted to marry her," he confessed in a small voice.

  "Fisher, you can be damn silly at times," Hunter admonished him, catching his lips with his own. Which handily ended anything Fisher had been about to say.

  They were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell, the signal that children were out and about. And ready for tricks or treats. Their first visitor turned out to be about three years old, wearing a ballerina costume. She stood proudly on her tippy toes, or as close as she could get at her age, and when her mother said dance, she pirouetted prettily for them, earning her extra candy. After she left there was a gap, as it was still early in the evening, so they returned to the couch.

  "About the bills," Fisher began, "I'll go out and get something tomorrow, don't worry about it…"

  Hunter cut him off. "You'll do no such thing."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. What you told me last night."

  In the small hours of the night, as they lay cuddled in Fisher's bed, too excited to sleep, Fisher had confessed to everything that had happened to him from the moment he hit his head at Lana's house until he found himself in Hunter's arms. He left nothing out, no matter how embarrassing. Not like Hunter hadn't lived through most of it the first time too. When he asked Hunter why Arthur Rimbaud should look like Leonardo di Caprio, Hunter had an easy answer. "Because Leo played him in the movie, Total Eclipse."