Chapter 1: Strange Fruit • Jimmy Darling
Elsa has saved me. She rescued me from a life where I was just a pet; supposed to cater to the humours of drunks and perverts. The gash across the bridge of my nose still hurts, bleeding through the band-aid Elsa gave me. A tear betrays me as it rolls down my cheek. Not one out of sadness but one of happiness and tension.
“Wipe your tears, mein Leibe. You want to make a good impression.” I wipe my eyes and look up, the stripes of the big top stretching before me. Posters with large, painted performers are presented down the carpet, toward the entrance to the big tent. The car screeches to a stop and Elsa steps out. I take a second to marvel at what a ghost town this is. What have I gotten myself into?
She leads me into the big top, where music flows like blood through my veins.
“And I swear that I don't have a gun. No, I don’t have a gun...” The words echo across the vinyl as I lay my eyes upon the singer. Brunette locks fall about his face as he makes love to that microphone. “No, I don’t have a gun... No, I don’t have a gun...” I can only stare in awe. “No, I don’t have a gun... No, I don’t have a gun...“ The music number is over and the spell is broken.
“My children! We have a new member to our family.” My ears twitch as she pushes me forward. “May I introduce you to Eliott Ortiz.” I hold up my hand and wave as they descend from the stage. The boy from the stage is the first to come up and take my hand in his...lobster-like claws.
“Welcome to the show, Eliott. Just call me Jimmy.” He smiles, broadly, and I’m lost in it for a moment. His dark, dark eyes bear into me and then he steps back.
“Paul. Nice to meet you.” The tattooed man takes my hand in a, surprisingly, firm grip.
“You, too.” Is all I manage.
“Eve.” The tall, tall, tall woman introduces herself, nodding.
“I am Ma Petité.” A tiny, little lady approaches me in full Indian garments. I take her tiny hand in mine, shaking it, delicately.
“I’m sure you’ll settle in fast, mein Hündin...” I hear Elsa mutter as she walks out to have a cigarette.
The next few weeks are dedicated to perfecting my act; Jimmy warns the crowd of my — fictional — violent tendencies and then I rush him, on-stage, we do a little choreographed fight. I howl to the sky before he manages to pin me down and restrain me, petting my ears and feeding me ‘dog biscuits’ (just normal shortbread, dusted with confectioners’ sugar to make it look more unnaturally white). But Jimmy and I? We’ve gotten close. He’s taken to calling me Eli, a nickname I had when I used to live with my folks. But...it means...something when he says it. When the others say it. Eli doesn’t mean ‘freak’ or ‘monster’, anymore. Instead, Eli means ‘friend’ or ‘buddy’.
There’s been something so inherently...hot about the tent, today. As I go to leap on-stage, I’m sweating bucket loads and I’m looking at Jimmy’s crotch like a complete pervert.
“I must warn you, dear audience, not to move as he may...ATTACK!” I pounce on him, giving him my best roar. Pressed to the boards of the stage, Jimmy wonders why I haven’t started our choreography. “Eli!” He whispers under his breath. I take a deep breath and go for his neck, just like in the act. He gets me by the neck and throws me off. His claws crush my windpipe for a little over a second and I’m stupified, blood rushing downwards as I land on the boards. He mounts me, this time, as Elsa watches on. He looks down at the raging hard-on that’s poking at his ribs. Elsa doesn’t seem to be paying much attention so Jimmy takes his opening. “Okay, take a break, Eli.” He announces before we slip out the back.
The sunlight is blinding, beating down upon my neck as he pulls me to one side.
“You okay, Eli? You don’t usually...pop boners like that.” He asks, a worried look on his face, as he holds a hand to my sweat-drenched forehead. I smile and cock my head to the side. He seems to fall at ease. I grab him by his worn, shirt collar and press my lips to his. He’s frozen for a moment before he buries his hands in my flaxen-coloured hair, his claw fingers scratching behind my ears and rubbing small circles, making my pulse race. A groan leaves him as I tug his hips closer by his belt loops, grinding against him. My lips go to his neck, kissing down the pale line of his throat as he holds me closer. God, Jimmy... “E-Eli...” He pants out through a rush of endorphins. I make a noise of acknowledgement. “My trailer. Now.” He takes me by the hand and we run, like criminals, to his trailer and he locks the door.
As soon as the door goes, he presses me into his mattress, one hand in my hair and the other snaking down to cup my growing erection. I tug off my bandana and my shirt, exposing my chest and he, practically, tears his shirt off, letting me shower his chest with teasing touches and small kisses. I shimmy out from under him and take my place, straddling his legs. I move down, unbuttoning and unzipping his blue jeans, tugging his cock out of his briefs. When he’s exposed to the scorching, humid air, he sighs, now, free of his constraints.
“Oh, fuck...” He groans out and I can only imagine how good I look as he rests his heavy cock against my face, pre-come leaking onto my cheek. He’s so long and so, so thick and, oh, my God, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to fit him in my mouth or my ass. I lick up the underside of his cock and he hisses, hands fisting in the sheets below him. “Sweet fuckin’ Jesus...” He groans out as I take the head of his cock into my mouth, my tongue flicking at the slit in the head and my hands going to stroke at his shaft. My warm palms are only made so much warmer as I build up a relentless speed. “You keep going like that and this is gonna be over a lot faster than I’d like...” He groans out, hips bucking up. I don’t stop, though, my other hand going down to cup his balls, running my thumb over the taut skin.
“Come for me, Jimmy. I wanna taste you.” I sigh as I work his cock raw.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuuuuck...” He curses under his breath as he releases into my mouth. He shoots a Hell of a load, it starts coming out of my nose and I cough.
When he passes through the afterglow, he looks down, his claw fingers scratching behind my ear.
“Good... Good boy.” He breathes as I move up to kiss him. He tastes himself on my tongue, groaning when he grabs my ass and kneads the flesh. I pull back, breathing heavy.
“Jimmy... Do you...like me?” I ask and he nods, without hesitation.
“You’ve been here — what? — four weeks and we’re fuckin’ in my trailer. Sounds like it to me.” He chuckles with a wink and I smile. “I’ve never been with a guy before but I always thought they’d be more...demanding? Rough?”
“Oh, tough guy, I can be rough if you want me to.” I groan as I nip at his neck, shifting into his lap as his claws find my ass, again.
“But, no, Eli, we’re... You’re great and I think we can make a good go of this.” I smile, genuinely. There’s a bang on the door. It’s Eve.
“Show starts in thirty.” She yells and we get up from his mattress, peppering each other with kisses.
Chapter 2: A Bloody Good Time • James Patrick March
A shiver runs down my spine as I look up and down the front of Hotel Cortez. History can be a real piss-take sometimes. I’ve been writing my paper on a particular famous killer that caught my interest when I was reading up about serial killers, in LA. The Ten Commandments Killer, he was called. From what I’ve seen; quite handsome, too. Exactly my type... Well, apart from the whole ‘kills people for fun’ part, I guess.
I wander in, suitcase in hand, and wander up to the reception desk. A rotund lady stands there, writing in her fancy registry book.
“Good afternoon, miss.” I introduce myself. “My name is Charles LeLang, I’m a history student at UCLA.”
“What’re you here for, pretty boy?” She looks up.
“Umm... I wanted to rent room 64, just for the weekend. I want to do some investigating. I’m writing a paper, you see—”
“We don’t rent that room out, kid.” She cuts me off and I place $200 on the counter.
“Please, miss. I need to pass this class.” She takes the money and I’m relieved. Eventually, she says;
“Fine. As long as you ain’t here to shoot up drugs or sleep around.” She explains, sternly, as she hands me the keys to 64.
“Thank you so much, miss.”
I catch the elevator up and up and up. There are lewd noises from every door; moaning or screaming or the snapping of whips. I focus on finding my door, sliding the key into the keyhole and edging inside, shutting the door behind me. The air is thick and rich. The scent of old books and centuries old alcohol and expensive smoking tobacco. I place my bag, softly, on the floor next to the bed before getting my phone out to shoot a panorama of the room, in all its musty, retro glory.
“You like it?” Comes a voice and I jump, turning to the source of the voice.
Trim, fit, slick, handsome, elegant, beautiful, gorgeous. What other words could I use to describe the man before me? (Probably, completely and utterly fuckable.) But, besides how hot he is, he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be standing. He shouldn’t be alive.
“Y-Y-You’re— Oh, my God...”
“God? My boy, God does not exist...but I do.” The scent of smoke swirls around him as he kisses the back of my hand, grinning, deviously. “I do so love it when the bug, willingly, crawls into the spider’s web.”
“... B-But you’re—”
“James Patrick March. Indeed, my boy.” He takes a seat on the couch. “I hear you’ve come to...do some snooping in order to write your university paper.” He chuckles, taking a draw on his pipe as I nod. He lets a cloud of grey smoke leave those perfect lips before he looks up at me with those warm, deep brown eyes.
Wow... He stands and strides over to me, casting a fingertip down my cheek.
“I know what you really want.” He whispers. “You filthy, filthy boy. You’ve been looking through books and newspapers and files for research on your paper...only to fall, desperately, in love with me.” A blush paints my cheek as I look to the floor in shame. “You heard of my appearances in this hotel, particularly in this room, and decided to pay me a visit. How perfectly delightful. I’ve been needing a new...playmate for a while, now.”
“We play by my rules, my boy. You may call me Mister March. You obey my commands. You do not do anything without my say so. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” I kneel between his outstretched legs, naked and shamefully hard. I nod, silently. “Prepare me.” He grins, watching as I go to unbutton his fancy slacks. His cock is thick and heavy, even when soft. He sips his sherry, watching me through heavy-lidded eyes as I swipe my tongue against the shaft, loving the feeling of his hot, hardening cock against my cheek. (Not going to lie; I didn’t actually think I’d be sucking off a ghost, this weekend, but here we are, I guess.) His brows draw in as my teeth catch on the vein, on the underside of his cock. He hisses in a breath, grabbing onto my dyed hair. “Maid. My riding crop, if you please.”
Tied to the headboard of his bed, I shiver at the cold that surrounds him. The air around him is freezing but his skin is searing warmth. Straddling my thighs, he casts a hand over my cheek, soft and tender. He wraps a hand around my throat, pressing harder and harder, pressing against the bulge of my adam’s apple. I gasp for breath, my legs thrashing. He leans in, his lips kissing away the small, wet noises that leave my throat as he leans on my neck.
“What beautiful noises, Charles, my boy.” My eyes roll into the back of my head, cheeks going red, lips growing swollen. The world goes dark and I’m aware of his heaviness on my thighs, his eyes watching me, intently, as he grinds his erection against me. Just as I’m about to lose consciousness, he eases off. Air rushes into my lungs and I drink it down, the rush sending blood coursing down to my cock, making it twitch, violently.
Pressing his lips to mine, he breathes in my scent, his hands curled into my shirt. He retrieves a butterfly knife from his suit pocket. My eyes go wide with fear but my dick jerks in excitement. James notes both reactions and chuckles.
“Worry not, my boy. I won’t kill you.” I exhale, deeply, out of relief. “As long as you do as I say.” He slices my shirt off me, exposing my pale chest. “So fragile. So pure. So innocent. I bet my right foot you haven’t been deflowered yet, my boy.” I cast my head to the side, averting my eyes, affirming his assumption. “I thought not...” His free hand moves down, cupping both our erections, as he ruts against me.
“God, Mister March...” His length is thick and hot, even through the material of his expensive suit pants. I want to scream with how much I want him. How much I want to wrap my arms around him. How much I want to sacrifice myself to him. Groaning in abandon, he chuckles as he releases his grip and crawls off me.
His hair is mussed and his cheeks are red, his breath coming in heavy gasps as he attempts to recompose himself, stuffing the butterfly knife back in his pocket. Lighting a cigarette, he grins at me and rounds the bed to the drinks cabinet, pouring two glasses of sherry.
“I find the prospect of death and murder to be...ecstatic. What a form of elation. What a beautiful form of self-expression that brings the electricity of tension to your bones. My darling boy, by meeting me, you have begun your study into hot-blooded murder. Not just any murder, the one that causes hearts to stop, blood to spray and bodies to writhe. Of course, you will have to find your own signature but this will open a world of opportunity.” Excited, he rides himself of his shirt and scarf, displaying the crude gash along his throat, then his trousers. “My boy, collect the carnality and pleasure of sex with the blood and mess of murder and you get a beautiful monstrosity that turns people’s stomachs.” He sighs, kicking off his drawers and pumping at his cock, languidly. A mix of fear and lust buzzes around my head like bees and I’m so desperate for him. My body thrums with need.
“Please, Mister March... I’ll do whatever you say...” I breathe and he straddles my hips, again, stubbing his cigarette out on my shoulder. I hiss at the pain and he giggles, excitedly.
“I know, my boy. I know. I find you so, beautifully, pure. You’ll be so loyal.” He purrs against my ear and I can smell the smoke on his skin. “You need to understand something, though; as soon as I do this, you belong to me. I will bring you bliss, excitement and satisfaction, every night, and, in return, you will lure victims for us to play with.” He grows so close to kiss me, again, and I wait for the contact but he dismounts and wanders to place his glass down. “That or I can leave and let you carry on with your paper and—”
“Wait!” I yelp and he stops, his back turned to me. I can, practically, feel the feral smile crawling to his lips. “I... I... I want to stay with you, Mister March. I...love you, sir.” I admit and he turns on his heel, stroking himself, easily. “I love you and I want you.”
“And if you do this, you’ll assist me in my murders and I will bring light and pleasure to our life, my dear boy. You’re sure?” He grins and I...nod.
Knock, knock, knock!
He goes to open the door, stood only in his spats, his socks and his sock suspenders.
“Ah, my dear. He’s just agreed to the terms.” He explains as a tall, blonde woman strides into the room. She is, gloriously, naked, mounting the bed and straddling me, where James was only a few moments ago. She strips me of my jeans and boxers and plants herself on my lap, enveloping my cock in warm, syrupy goodness. She rides me, moaning like it was the first time she’d ever fucked. For me, it is so I’m in heaven, as she takes in the length of my cock. It goes like this for a minute or two before things go south. In a flash, she’s slashed open my throat and I am only aware of the feeling of my lifeblood leaving my body, James’s eyes watching, hungrily. She revels in the taste of my blood, drinking it down and leaning up to kiss me. I watch James, his form crumpled, like so much crushed velvet, into an armchair, his hand, idly, running up and down the length of his erection. Between the pleasure of the warmth around my cock and the emptiness as she drinks from me, I soon pass into a deep, deep sleep...
To be continued...
Chapter 3: Livin’ la Vida Loca • Mr. Gallant
Written before I’ve seen Apocalypse so pardon me if my characterisation is a bit off. Also, straight people, stop making Gallant fucking straight. You guys already have enough man meat to look at. Give us our canon gay back and we can all be friends. Also also, this is a shameless self-insert. Sorry, not sorry.
Surrounded by candles, Gallant sits, sipping on some unknown booze to keep him occupied. His bed sheets are ruffled and, upsettingly, dirty for a man of his stature. Though, for having survived the apocalypse, they seem to have survived well enough. His mattress is springy enough to withstand his constant tossing and turning and the frame is strong enough to withstand the rough sex he tends to have.
I study him from outside, making out the soft lines of his face, the splash of colour of his scarf and his shock of bleach blonde hair. My name is Adam Tolini. I’m a gay transguy, I’ll out and say it. (What’re you gonna do? Start World War Thr— Oh, wait.) But, yeah, I transitioned at about twenty — twenty-one? — and, in only being human, I found Gallant an astounding man to look at; all pale skin and dark eyes. Thankfully, this one actually swung my way so we got to talking but it...didn’t actually go anywhere.
“Stop staring at me, Adam! If you’re coming in, come in.” He slurs through his alcoholic stupor.
“Gallant, if you want a good fucking, I’ll go get Michael for you.” I hiss back. Gallant is a beautiful creature but that doesn’t give him immunity to my feelings. What a little fucking bitch.
“What? You jealous?” He chuckles back into his drink.
“Nah. He probably has, like, ten different STDs, anyway. If you feel an itching on your crotch, don’t worry, it’s just you’re dumb bitch of a boyfriend.” I yell back and he gets to his feet.
“He’s not my boyfriend, okay? I slept with him once and he’s a piece of shit.” He stands at the foot of his bed. “You’re just jealous because you wanted his ass to yourself, you absolute cunt.” I get up and stride to his doorway.
“Watch your mouth, Gallant.” He gets toe to toe with me.
“Or what? You gonna watch it for me?”
I can think of nothing else as I stare at those soft, pink lips. I smash my face into his, my hands going to his hair, stroking it before curling my fingers in the soft, blonde strands of it. His hands find my belt loops, tugging me forward until his calves touch the foot of the bed. When we part, he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“I see how it is, Adam.” He chuckles. “You weren’t jealous of me, oh, no. You were jealous of Michael. You wanna make me your little bitch boy? Because, I’ll tell you, now, I’m difficult to tame.” He purrs, whipping off his scarf and kissing me, again, harder this time. His tongue licks into my mouth and he’s desperate, making these little, groaning noises as my fingers fumble with his shirt buttons. “I managed to stash away most of my favourite things. Have a look while I get myself ready.”
I look through the drawer he was eyeing and sift through everything I find in there. Handcuffs, rope, gags (of multiple varieties), riding crops, whips, blindfolds, lube and condoms. Jesus...
“Did you...find all this here?” I ask, incredulously, and he chuckles, unbuttoning his shirt to expose acres of beautiful, unmarred flesh.
“A guy had to be prepared for when the apocalypse came, right?” He throws a wink over his shoulder and I smile, going to close and lock the door. In the candlelight, his eyes are black as night, as I study him in the cracked vanity. I cast a palm over his cheek, making him crane his neck back, seeing me upside down. “Kiss me, again, Adam.” He demands and I can already tell it’ll be fun breaking him... I lean down and envelope his lips with my own. He even behaves himself until he starts biting and swirling his tongue around my oral piercings, the three lip piercings along my bottom lip and my tongue piercing. He catches them between his teeth, making me growl out in frustration as these have been known to get caught on things but I, soon, deduce that he’s just being a little shit.
I tear myself away and he pants down air, rising from the chair in front of his vanity and mounting the mattress.
“Build me up, beat me down but you’re gonna have to try hard to break me in, sweetheart.” He whispers against my ear and I grab his ass through his suit pants. “Tut tut tut...” He smiles as I release him and wander to the drawer, getting a pair of handcuffs, a blindfold and a ball gag.
“Off the bed, Gallant. At the foot.” He stands at the foot of the bed and I wrap the blindfold around his head. With his eyes obscured, I move in to kiss him. He’s all gentle, his tongue stroking against my vertical labrets, softly. I think of rewarding him...until he pulls on my middle lip piercing and giggles. I pull back and slap him across the cheek, making him gasp. From there, I slide in the gag and get him to kneel, securing his wrists to the foot of the bed frame.
He’s so beautiful in the candlelight. His open shirt sways as he shivers, his scarf fluttering around his neck as his erection strains against the zipper of his pants. He’s so hard, so desperate. For me. God, it makes me dizzy. The toe of my shoe nudges his bulge and he jerks as I step down, slowly, pressing his bulge against the concrete floor below him. He squirms, then gasps, then screams. When I release him, his cheeks are red and his chin is wet, his saliva dripping dark spots onto the concrete. I unzip my pants and get out my cock. I get it out and press it to his cheek, making him turn his head. He leans in to the base, taking in the heady scent of my desire. That makes him groan.
“You like how hard you make me? How every time I see your pretty, little face I just wanna throw you against a wall and fuck you until you forget your own name?” He growls behind his gag, nodding in agreement. “You like it? You want me to do that? We’re just at dinner and I bend you over the dining room table, tear down your pants and just have you, right then and there. Let ‘em watch. I want Michael to know he missed his chance with the sexiest, fucking hairdresser this side of the apocalypse.” Gallant rattles his cuffs as I, languidly, thrust against his cheek, my cock hugging the sharp incline of his cheekbone. I stroke his hair, leaning down to kiss his head as he tries to move into a comfortable position. I hold his nose and mouth at the base of my cock, making him breathe in the stink of sex and anticipation on my skin. He moans through the gag and I watch his dick twitch in his pants. “You want to suck me off, you fucking faggot?” I growl and he nods, whining. What a little slut. “Fine but don’t make me regret this.”
I unbuckle his gag and he spits it out, not bothered by the copious amounts of saliva that dripped down his chin, down his slender throat and over his pale chest.
“Gimme your cock.” He demands and I find myself acting before I fully register the command. I push my cock head past his lips and he closes his mouth around my girth.
“Oh, shit...” I curse as he sucks in his cheeks, chuckling, softly. Gallant grazes his teeth against my dick and I hiss in surprise. I don’t regret unbuckling his gag but I let him know I’m displeased. I grab his head by the hair and skewer his head on my dick, shoving it down his throat. He gags a couple times before I draw in and out. In, out, in, out and he begins to gag and cough. When I can, practically, feel him about to throw up, I stop, allowing him to breathe and settle his stomach. “You like my cock, Gallant?” I ask and he laughs, breathlessly.
“Would’ve been able to savour it if you didn’t fuck my mouth.” He quips and I slap him across the face.
“Did. You. Like. My. Cock? Gallant?” I ask, again, slowly, this time, easing my palm over his sore cheek.
“... Yes, sir.” The way sir just rolls off his wretched tongue is sinful in and of itself. It’s followed by a sweet sigh and I kiss him, quickly, sweetly.
“Let’s get this undone.” I smile, leaning down to unbutton and unzip his pants, tugging him out of his tight boxer shorts. As his girth is exposed to the stuffy air of the room, he bites his lip and exhales, slowly. I crouch then lay on the floor, just studying the sheer fullness of his cock. “You were blessed, Gallant, Jesus Christ.” I sigh, wrapping my hand around his girthy dick. His breath hitches in his throat. I release it and wait a moment before I run the flat of my tongue against the underside, pre-come leaking down the shaft as he groans, his restraints straining against his wrists as they shake.
“Oh, my fucking God, Adam...” I stop and sit up, just taking a moment to marvel at his beautiful body, his jaw hanging half-open as he breathes out a moan, the slickness of his chest where his saliva has painted him. I press my body to his as I lean my head into the crook of his neck, nipping and licking at the light sheen of sweat that has built up. When I go in for a kiss, he’s a mess of tongue, his body trembling, always needing more.
“That’s enough with the foreplay. Let’s get down to brass tacks.”
Gloriously, naked, Gallant props himself up on all fours as I round the bed with a bottle of lube. I’m naked, too, and he took a second to run his silk-soft palms over my scarred chest. As I mount the bed, Gallant holds himself open for me.
“C’mon, Adam. You’ve been waiting for this.” I slick up my fingers and work a couple into him. His body is wracked with pleasure as I drive them into him. “Oh, dear God, faster...” He breathes, pushing back against my fingers. I pull out and push back in, fingertips grappling for his prostate. Rinse and repeat, for a little while, anyway. He shakes his little, white ass until I smack it and he sighs, delightedly. “Fuck me, Adam... God, I want it so fucking bad and I know you do, too.”
I can’t wait any longer. I slick up my drooling cock and shove it into him, his fingers going to curl around the head of his bed frame. He’s so soft and warm and I can’t...
“Come on! Fuck me, Adam!” He yells and I grab a deadlock grip on his hips. One, two, three, four... Between sexual tension and pent-up stress, neither of us last very long. After about a dozen thrusts, I reach around to jerk him off. Stuck between two pleasures, it doesn’t take him long to be a shivering mess as he reaches his peak. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...! Adam, fill me! Oh, my God!” He screams as his come spurts onto my hand and onto his sheets below. I don’t last much longer, riding out my orgasm as I come inside. He shudders as I pump the last of my come into him and pull out.
Silently, I stand and begin to put my clothes back on. He turns back over, watching me.
“You’re...going?” He asks and I shrug.
“I figured you’d want me to leave after we fucked.” I state, easily, and he looks away.
“You wanna...stay the night? I don’t know. You could sleep here.” My face lights up as I rush back to the bed, capturing his lips, and his hands bury in my hair. “I really like you, Adam.”
Chapter 4: Red Sex • James March
(A really short one.)
I groan as my eyes ease open.
“He’ll survive.” The Countess sighs as she takes her leave, running her fingers through James’s hair before she goes. He’s fully dressed, again, now.
“For a moment, we thought she’d killed you.” He chuckles, seating himself on the side of the bed. Remembering that, my hands fly up to my neck and feel the lack of gash.
“But she...” I begin but he moves in closer. The blood loss is still getting to me. “Jesus, James... I forgot how beautiful you were...” I sigh and he winks and grins. “Wh-What happened?” I ask and Mister March smile grows.
“The Countess turned you.” He states, lighting a cigarette, easily.
“Turned me? Turned me into what?” I ask, my anxiety growing.
“Well, the infection is most like vampirism, in many ways.” He explains. “Immortality, boosted healing and immune system, hyper stamina, more muscle mass, larger...equipment... Also, it makes you, precisely, 749% more desirable than normal, mortal humans.” He laughs, puffing out clouds of grey smoke.
I hoist him to the wall, holding him there as he drops his cigarette. Caught by surprise, his eyes go wide and he looks up.
“My, my, Charles... I’m quite impressed. We might make a killer of you yet.” He chuckles after a pause and I kiss him, all teeth and tongue.
“I need you to fuck me, Mister March...” I growl out and he, visibly, shudders. “Fuck me ‘til I bleed...” I purr against his ear and I feel him swallow, thickly.
“James...” He breathes and I smile as I pull back, putting his feet back on the floor. I back up onto the bed, falling onto it and spreading my bare legs for him, letting him see what I have to offer.
“I’ve always wanted you, James, since I opened that first book.”
‘A little over thirty years old, March had been, in LA, for six months, according to the Tribune (though it was really more than six years). A trained doctor and a pharmacist by trade, he would later be described as “a man of medium height, fit build, and a very charismatic temperament. He has a habit of smoking while talking. He has a little black moustache and a pair of warm brown eyes, one of which, like his sexual orientation, is not straight.” No one could possibly write a better description of a classic melodrama villain...’
With him standing before me, I can see where they were coming from.
“Come fuck me, James...” This time, it’s challenging, as I pump my cock to hardness. “I used to think of how it would feel if you killed me. You’d drag it out; make it hurt, make it worth it.” He starts to strip off his coat and waistcoat as he rushes over. “You’d bleed me, dry, into a bathtub and then, little by little, you’d consume it, so there would always be a part of me inside you.” He tears open his suit pants and pulls himself free of his briefs before he takes my invitation, entering me without any preparation. He groans in pleasure and bows his head into my shoulder, biting down hard enough to draw blood as he fucks me.
“You’d be my masterpiece, Charles.” He whispers through his short, gasping breaths and I run my hands down his chest, his shirt half unbuttoned. “We would make love on every surface, all in one, beautiful night and then, just as you reached your final climax, I would slit your throat and watch you bleed out as I came one, last time. I would watch the light leave your eyes and wait for you to join me in haunting my accursed hotel.” He breathes and I sigh, the thought making me want him even more. I push him away to look into those warm, brown eyes, the sweat beading on his brow, his soft, full lips parted as he pants out his breaths. He’s gorgeous. And mine. I kiss him and fireworks explode behind my eyelids. This is what I was meant for. This is what they wanted for me. Being here, now, makes everything seem worth it. His arms curl around me as his weight crushes me against the mattress. It makes me breathless and he’s still bucking into me, his thrusts even deeper now that he’s flush against me.
“Oh, fuck, James!” I scream out his name as his hand wrapped around my cock, jerking me to my climax. He stares, deep, into my eyes, his hair mussed and his breath shallow.
“Come for me, my boy.” He breathes and I can smell the smoke on his tongue. Just as I’m about to fall over the edge, his forearm comes to rest on my windpipe and he puts his weight on it, cutting off my oxygen as I spill into his hand. Gasping for air as my hips beg for more, he spills into me, groaning and snarling as he rides out his orgasm. Our bodies still and I’m gasping as he cuts off my blood circulation. “What’s my name, Charles, my darling boy?” He asks and I, instinctively, grapple at his shoulder.
“Mister...James Patrick...March...” I squeak out and he chuckles, sealing his lips over mine as he eases off my throat.
“You’re so much fun, my darling. I can’t wait for an eternity of this...”
Chapter 5: Promise Me • Kai Anderson
I wander up the stairs to his front door. He’s been expecting me, ever since I first called him. He asked me to come to his place for a ‘friendly talk’. I ring the doorbell and tousle my hair, slightly. The air is still and tense. Just as I’m about to ring the bell, again, he answers the door, his blue head popping out from a small gap.
“Ah. Come in, sir.” He smiles and opens his door, gesturing an invitation. After I walk in and wipe my feet, I step inside. The house is homey and warm. Kind of retro. “Please, have a seat at the table.”
“Please, just call me Stephen.” I shrug off my coat and place it over the back of my chair.
He rests his elbow on the dining table and extends his pinkie. It’s takes me a moment to join him.
“Answer my questions, honestly, and I’ll have a better idea of how to help you. Stephen.” He adds, hotly, his black eyes darting to meet my own under the intense light of the kitchen lamp. “You promise me you’ll be truthful. I can tell if you aren’t.”
“I promise.” He nods and stares into me.
“When did you feel your worst, physical, pain?” He asks and I think back.
“Probably when a table tennis table fell on my foot and it pressed the nail mostly into my toe. My toe was black and bruised for weeks.” I explain and he nods.
“When have you felt fear?” He asks and nod, understandingly.
“When encountering spiders.” He takes a deep breath.
“Don’t lie to me, Stephen. True fear. That’s what I want to know.” He sighs out and I swallow a lump in my throat.
“I’m...always scared. Scared of being alone, scared of spiders, scared of people.” I stop myself short and his pinkie flexes in my own. He pauses, looking down and studying the wood grain with the bitten-down nails of his other hand.
“Be honest, Stephen... Why did you come here, tonight?” He asks and my eyes widen.
“W-Well, I arranged a meeting for a talk so we talk.” I state, unable to look him in the eye.
“... Be honest. You can tell me.” He purrs.
“I... I came to see you. Ever since you turned up on my doorstep and handed me your card, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” He smiles, having drawn the real answer from my lips.
“And what do you think about?”
“Awful, terrible things.” He releases my finger and rounds the table, the legs of his chair squealing along the floor before he sits beside me, pulling my pinkie up to his lips, touching the soft flesh there that makes my head swim.
“What is your deepest desire as of right now? If you could wish for anything in the world, what would it b—”
“You.” I answer without even registering it and I panic when I realise what just came out of my mouth. “I— Umm... I have to go!” I make a break for the door, my cheeks stained red with embarrassment, but the door is locked and he catches up to me, easily, pinning me to the door, with his chest, flush, against my back. His hot body presses against my spine and I can feel his hand snake up, into my shirt.
“What is your darkest sexual fantasy, Steph?” He groans in my ear, through gritted teeth.
“I... I...” I begin but find my shame stopping me every time.
“Come, Steph. You can tell me, everything.” His breath is hot on my ear as he bites at the lobe. A shiver runs up my spine.
“I... I’m tied up, stretched out, from the ceiling, in a pitch black room. You appear out of thin air and cast your palms down my bare thighs. You pick up a tool from your tray, the choice is yours, and torture me until my eyes are wet and my dick is rock hard.” I groan, feeling his cock twitch in his pants, pressed against my ass. “You suck me to coming so many times but never let me release... That’s as far as I’ve ever gotten.” His tongue dances along the shell of my ear, curling around my industrial piercing as I breathe heavy.
He throws me into his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Kai, I—” He shushes me.
“No. You don’t speak. You’re not worthy. Not yet.” He takes off his hoodie, his cock tenting in his sweatpants. He looks big. Bigger than I ever dreamed. “Get on the bed, like a good, little whore.” He slaps me across the face and it stings, especially when he drags me closer to kiss him, taste him; sage and incense and musk. He pushes me into the bed. “On your back, with your head here.” He pats the side of the mattress and I obey, without question. I can’t wait for what he has in store. “I will rebuild you, Steph. You will be my masterpiece.” He growls as I get into position. He pulls his cock free of his sweatpants and I can marvel at all the thick nine inches of him.
“Oh, fuck...” I breathe and he slaps me across the face, again.
“Language.” He hisses as he eases his cock into my mouth. When my mouth is full, the head is pushed down my throat, catching me off-guard and making me gag. “Shhh...” His large hands cup my neck, feeling the bulge of his dick in my throat. “Oh, God...” He groans, rocking back and forth, my throat pulsing and convulsing around his flesh as he chokes me on it. My fists twist in his sheets and he builds to a relentless pace, his balls hitting my nose as he fucks my throat. “Jesus, yes... Your throat is so soft and warm, Steph... I love it...” He moans, his climax approaching, quickly. “Oh, fu-u-uck! Yes! Take it, Steph!” He yells, blunt nails scoring marks up my chest. Lack of oxygen makes me dizzy but I can, still feel the amount of blood rushing to my dick, which is, now, thickening, painfully, in my skinny jeans. He grabs my cock through the denim and I gasp. That’s all he needs as he pulls out and blows his load over my lips and chin. “Oh, God, yes...” He pants and I drink down air.
After he nearly chokes me, he helps me up, marvelling at his handiwork.
“You look so good, Stephen...” He breathes, licking his come from my lips. My mouth hangs open as I still breathe heavy. “I could do that all day...” He let’s go of me and, without his support, my recovering body falls to the bed, limply. “Come on, Steph. Become my equal. Fuck me, proper.” I nod, spacily, licking the come from my lips and chin. “Ever since I saw you, Steph, I knew you were destined for greatness. I knew you could bring me to my knees. You just needed the right person to break you down to build you back up.” He looks, deep, into my face, groaning as he takes in my vacant expression. “Get up, Steph. Claim me, free yourself of your shackles.”
I, slowly, slide off the bed, unbuckling my skinny jeans and shoving him against the desk in his room, bracing his hands against the thick wood. I shove down his sweatpants all the way, exposing his tight ass.
“Oh, Kai...” He passes me a bottle of lube and I slick us both up.
“Come on, Steph. Claim me and free yourself.” He hisses as my fingers interlace with his, fingertips pressing against the cheap plastic surface. I thrust in, in abandon, his spine quivering as I reach inside him and claim him. “Steph; my equal, my friend, my lover... How does it feel to fuck me?”
“It’s heaven, Kai...” I move my hands to his hips, my tight grip leaving marks all along his sides. On one thrust up, he jerks, his head thrown back in rapture. I bury one hand in his blue hair and press his face to his desk, his spine visible through his skin.
“Ruin me, Steph. Use your energy to fuck me into oblivion.” He pleads under my heavy palm. When his insides coil, tight, around my dick, my thrusts grow shallow and I reach around to jerk him to completion. Either way he twitches, pleasure burns at his skin, tears away at his sanity. “I’m...coming, Stephen!” He yells as he spills into my hand. I come soon after, shooting my load into him, filling him to the brim with his new owner’s come.
When I let him up, after a few beautiful moments, blue hair sticks to his forehead as he claims my mouth. I can still taste his cock in my mouth as I watch him lick the come from my palm, his black eyes dilated and deep as he stares at me.
“Well done, Stephen... You’re free.” He sighs, resting his head on my shoulder.
“Kai...” I breathe, searching his eyes for him. “Keep me. Show me. Teach me. Keep me.” He wraps his slender but strong arms around my shoulders and holds me close.
“Of course, Steph. I wouldn’t have anyone else stand so close, by my side.” He kisses me, again, his hair trailing across my cheekbones.
Chapter 6: Helping Hands • Kyle Spencer
Summer is in full swing so Summer jobs are abound. Harrison already got the job behind the bar, across the street, with the cute waitress. Andrew had started at the diner, in town. There aren’t really any other jobs but Kyle’s mom has been nagging and nagging for him to get a job. He is the head of the family, now, after all.
You wander by Kyle, your head in the clouds, and you bump into his solid shoulder. You drop your phone, your coffee and your headphones fall off.
“Oh, sorry!” He apologises, quickly, as you both bend over to collect your stuff.
“No, it was my fault.” You smile, politely. He stares for a minute as you brush down your coffee-stained shirt, obviously annoyed and troubled.
“Hey, you’re that guy from Physics 1/78, right?” You smile, brightly, now. He actually...noticed you? You never thought a guy as handsome as Kyle Spencer would really give a shit about you.
“Y-Yeah...” You mumble back, playing with your hair, subconsciously.
“You look worried. What’s up?” He cocks his head and you sigh. He seems to be a nice guy but he’s popular and a frat boy but he’s so gentlemanly.
“You...promise you won’t tell anyone?” You ask and he nods, intrigued. You sigh, preparing yourself. “Well, I run a channel online and I’ve run out of material so I need someone to join my act to spice it up a bit but I don’t really know many people and I didn’t really know if anyone would care... It’s my only way to make money on the side and the person would get a fair cut so—” Why are you even telling him all this?! He’s your biggest crush and he’s supposed to just—
“Sure! I’ll help out!” He beams and you feel your heart stop a little when he flicks his silken bangs out of his eyes.
“Oh! Jeez, a-are you sure?” You ask, impulsively, and he nods. You inhale a deep breath to steady yourself. “Okay. Umm... If you give me your number I’ll text you my channel URL and my address to meet me, tomorrow, okay?” He writes his number on the back of your hand and you say your goodbyes. Did you really just do that?! Oh, sweet, merciful God...
> You can register my number and here’s the channel: https://bitly.is/1g3AhR6
> I live in the flat by the Darwin Building, on campus.
Kyle S: Thanks.
Kyle S: Wait. This is a porn site.
Kyle S: Oh.
You hear the doorbell ring and cringe. It takes you a second to approach the door, especially when you spy a cute, blonde frat boy through the screen door. You open it, quietly.
“Hey, Kyle...” You greet, sheepishly, unable to look him in the eye but he’s as bright as ever, giving you a huge, reassuring grin with those adorable dimples.
“Morning. You wanting to do that show?” He asks and your ears prick up.
“I didn’t think you wanted to do it.” You reply and he rubs the back of his neck.
“Honestly, I was just...surprised. You always seemed so quiet, in classes, and to see you like that... It was a real eye-opener, y’know?” He looks nervous but encouraging. “Also, I gave you my word and, if this is your Summer job, you need money to live so I’m gonna help you out as best I can.”
You lead him into your — very aesthetically pleasing — bedroom, where the camera and several toys have already been set up. Everything is pastel and lo-fi plays from a retro record player, on your bedside table.
“Nice set up.” He marvels, your cute, cactus-print bed sheets making him smile, warmly.
“Thanks.” You approach the camera but before you press record, you begin to worry. “Hey, Kyle?”
“Hm?” He tugs his eyes away from a pile of sex toys near your bed.
“Did you do any drama?” You ask and he thinks back.
“Back in middle school. I was kinda good at it, too.” He smiles, innocently, and you sigh, cocking your brows.
“Good. I just want you to act. You don’t have to like me. It just has to look good. So, if you had to kiss me would you—” His lips catch your own and you sigh as his arms curl around your shoulders, hands burying in your hair. Everything feels so real but this has to be a dream. Surely...
“How was that?” He asks, cheeks reddening.
“... Good.” Breathless, you move in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t worry, though. It usually takes a while to get them going and to get the cash rolling in.”
After a couple of hours of scrolling through Twitter, playing mobile games and answering fanmail, there’s a couple of eager patrons, ready to see the wares. 500 tokens and 1000 tokens pop up on screen and you smile, looking up at Kyle, just making sure he’s up for it. Of course, he is. He is a man of his word, after all.
It starts with him kissing you, on the bed, then shirts off, pants off, underwear off.
> 3000 tokens — Give the new guy a suck.
You look up at Kyle. His beautifully sculpted chest and abdomen, the rosebuds of his lips, the slight curve of his perfect cock as he acknowledges the newest donation. He sits on the end of the bed and you get to your knees. Six inches, a complete twink size. You’ve only had daydreams of doing this, doodling lovehearts, in your textbooks, as you stared at his perfect hair. You take the head into your mouth and lick around the slit in the tip. He hisses, his fingers tangling in your hair, nails digging against your scalp, subconsciously.
After a few minutes of that and edging, someone brings out the big guns.
> 20000 tokens — MYSTERY SUPRISE TIME!!
You pull back. Kyle looks...peaceful and tired, sweat slicking his fair hair to his forehead.
“That’s ten-thousand dollars, Kyle.” You whisper and he nods, eyes still misted over with lust and pleasure. You draw yourself away and haul over a large instrument, plugging it in before whipping the dust protector off of it. It’s brand new, to be fair. The KPB; Kink Power Banger.
“What the...” He pants out as you position yourself, slicking up the dildo. You hand him the remote, entrusting him with the future of your insides. Carefully, he turns the dial and the toy begins to rut in and out, your eyes set, firmly, on the blonde boy beside you, leaning on an elbow and kissing the point of your shoulder, tenderly, edging the dial up, every now and again. He watches the machine fill you; in, out, in, out. Over and over and over again. As the head of the dildo nudges against your prostate, you groan and tug on Kyle’s blonde locks, bringing his lips to collide with yours. He’s all teeth and tongue, now, his long fingers curling around your cock, feeling your pulse through the flesh. You groan into his mouth, sighing, blissfully, as he begins to jerk you off. You’re so close. So close... He draws close to your ear.
“Come for me.” He growls and it barely even sounds like him but you spend, pushing the machine away and spilling into his palm, feeling shivers envelops your body as you convulse, riding out the echoes of your orgasm.
He stands and turns off the camera. He looks somewhat...upset?
“K... Kyle...?” You pant out and he walks to stand in front of you, again. “You okay?”
“I just... It feels wrong, y’know?” He asks, laying back on the bed, running his long fingers through your sweat-drenched hair. “To be doing something so intimate. Something like that. With a person you’ve only ever had feelings for but barely ever spoken to. I feel like that should be more like this...” He leans in, lips only multimeters away. He’s so warm, so inviting. Even in the warmth of the Summer day, he’s so lovely and beautiful. He kisses you, softly, so chaste and gentle you could almost imagine that being his first. “I’ve always liked you.” Your cheeks go bright red and you feel more naked, now, than ever before. You lay in his arms for what feels like forever and, slowly, drift off to sleep.
Chapter 7: Ghostly • Edward Mott / Rory Monohan
BELL: I lived in the house for a short time. A man named Edward Mott haunted the place. From all I knew, it was a way of avenging the deaths of his servants, by their families, that went just a little too far. However, I only learnt about it after I met Edward.
The downstairs halls are ominous and dark. A slender man, in Georgian clothing, wanders the halls as the owner returns to the living room with a plate of apple wedges. He stops short of the intruder and nearly drops his plate but, first, reaches for the knife he used to cut the apples.
BELL (REC.): Who... Who are you?!
His voice is shaky and scared but he tries to seem tough.
MOTT (REC.): Fear not, young man. I was a previous owner of the house; Edward Mott. I prefer to wander the woods than set foot in this accursed house yet you seemed...alluring.
MOTT rounds the younger man like he is studying him, looking him up and down. The camera follows this movement. MOTT rounds his back and presses his groin to the young man’s behind. Close-up on this action and accentuate the hitched breath let out by BELL.
MOTT: You’re exactly my type, my darling boy; skin like polished marble, eyes like glowing jewels in the night, hair like spun silk.
We join the real BELL back in the interview room.
BELL: We had a...strange relationship. It was like a dream or a nightmare; not entirely tangible but it felt real enough for me to be invested. It was interesting; waking up to find a man dressed in Georgian duds just standing in my kitchen, y’know? He, more-or-less, lived with me. We talked together, dined together, cooked together, drank together...
We switch back to the recreation. BELL is in the arms of MOTT, moaning, wantonly, in the moonlight. BELL is on all fours, bent over, roughly, with one arm twisted behind his back, MOTT forcing his face into the sheets after his elbow buckled. Much is obscured by the filtered light. There is enough skin shown; bars of bare skin can be seen, bleached, by the moonlight. We can see, most of, what is going on. MOTT rakes his fingers down BELL’s back, making blood-red marks rise to the surface. The action is furious and passionate.
MOTT: Oh, my sweet boy... Turn over so I can see your gorgeous face.
BELL falls to his side, looking up, before laying on his back with a heavy sigh. MOTT reinserts himself and both moan in unison. The bed frame creaks as BELL fists his hands in the sheets, MOTT moving in to devour his boy’s throat.
MOTT: So beautiful...
We come back to BELL, in the interview room. He looks bemused, away with his own thoughts, biting his lip as he recalls.
BELL: We bonded over art and wine and, soon, we became...lovers. Only I couldn’t take him outside or anything of the like because he always refused. I was an idiot. I guess, I didn’t want to believe in ghosts, especially when I was, supposedly, screwing one... But it all felt so...real.
Recreation. MOTT is seated on the side of the granite workbench, in the kitchen. Gloriously naked, MOTT breathes, heavy, as AR bucks into his shivering body. BELL tugs at his soft brown hair, biting his lips and leaving bright red marks all down his throat. MOTT sighs as BELL licks a wet stripe up his throat, causing him to shiver.
AR: I can’t...take much more.
MOTT: Oh, my darling! Finish me, please...
Interview room. BELL is crying, silently.
BELL: He insisted I live my full life even though I wanted to be with him. So desperately did I want to be with him. He was exotic and adorable and I...
Recreation. A groan splits the silence as MOTT steps into the outdoor bath. The water is steaming in the quiet, midnight air, the bath only lit by a dim overhanging lamp. BELL watches him sink into the ink-like abyss of the pool. Their fingers touch and MOTT leans in, capturing AR’s lips, sweetly. He floats between BELL’s outstretched legs and sighs, nipping at his neck and shoulders as their fingers knit together. BELL curls his long legs around MOTT’s waist, pulling him ever closer. A hand slips down, into the inky water, a finger probing at—
“Cut! Cut! Rory! Justin! What the f—” Sidney yells as Rory slides a finger into you. You groan, deeply, spine tingling as you shiver.
“Rory, the cameras...” You sigh and your boyfriend chuckles, back to his usual self.
“Shhh... Let them watch, baby. I like an audience...” He purrs against your ear as most of the camera crew packs up, Sidney leaving the two of you to your business. One camera is left for if they need it, later, for defamation but, the great thing is, Rory couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“Jesus, Rory... You’re so—”
“Sexy? Dreamy? Hot? Studly?” He quips, wiggling is eyebrows as he presses his fingertips against your prostate. You, practically, leap out of your skin, a shocked gasp shaking you to the core. Suddenly, he pulls back and stands. His washboard abs and his strong pecs just remind you how much work he put into that role, in that Marvel movie, a month or so back. God, he’s gorgeous... “I’m getting in the shower. You coming?”
Steam swallows up the room as Rory twists the shower faucet, pressing you to the sink, lips covering yours in a beautiful, warm embrace.
“Fuck, Rory...” His skin is clammy and damp from the bath and he hauls you into the bath, his arms curling around your waist and pulling you into him.
“I could do that with you all day, Justin.” He murmurs in between kisses. “I could just take you into the...woods and fuck you against a tree until you...couldn’t stand and you couldn’t survive without my cock.” You moan, heavily.
“I love it when you talk dirty.” He chuckles, lowly, as you get to your knees, on the floor of the bathtub.
His body is soft and rouged from the warmth of the water. He’s hard, eight inches of pulsing flesh making you lick your lips, hungrily.
“Come on, baby.” He encourages you and you take the tip between your lips, working your way down it. The noises he makes are music to your ears. He lets out this breathless moan as you take him down to the root, fingers clenching in your hair. “Oh, shit... Yeah, babe... Fuck, yeah...” The sexual tension in the house hangs like a heavy cloud. You’ve touched yourself thinking about him and he’s done the same, especially thinking about all the sex scenes you two have filmed together. So, you know he won’t last long. You raise a hand, your fingers padding along the taut skin of his balls, hearing him let out a shaky breath. At the last second, he pulls out, coiling his fingers around his cock. “God, fuck, yeah...” He groans, breaths becoming gasps, as he spends himself, spilling onto your face. Some lands on your lips and you lick it away, revelling in the earthy taste of his come. “You’re such a little slut...” He chuckles, helping you up as you rinse your face off, under the shower.
“Hey! You were the one who was all dirty talk.” You laugh as he moves in to kiss you. “Come on. Let’s get out. I think we have a rather important appointment with a bed.”
Chapter 8: Into the Woods • Jimmy Darling
It’s all fine, in the beginning, where it’s just us; just Elsa, Ethel, Paul, Eve, Ma Petite, Meep, Toulouse, Suzi, Salty, Pepper, Jimmy and I. We weren’t rolling in cash but we survived, even if it was on charm, alone.
I pass by Ma Petite, picking up a strange scent on her. I approach her, smiling.
“Is that a new perfume?” I ask and she nods, holding up a fancy bottle. “It smells divine.” I smile and she reaches to pet behind my ears.
“Thanks, Eli.” She giggles and I leave her to it. Everyone is so cheerful, even if they’re heaving up the new posters, they seem so energetic.
“Eve! You okay?” I ask as I pass her by.
“Yeah, Eli. You okay?” She replies and I beam at her.
“Always. Also, those shorts look lovely.” She winks at me and I grin. Everyone seems so joyous, even on a working day. I mean, everyone who isn’t ‘happy’ per se is still glad to see me...
I knock on the door to Jimmy’s trailer and he takes a second to open the door.
“Heya, sweetheart.” He greets and my ears twitch.
“Hey, darling.” I wink and he leans down to kiss me, his fused fingers cupping my cheeks, warmly, holding me in place as he leans in for a few kisses. Every minute I can see Jimmy is a minute of sunlight that blinds me with tranquility and joy.
“You wanting to go for a walk?” He asks and I nod, leaning my head down to let him pet my hair. Obviously, I’m not your run-of-the-mill person. Or your run-of-the-mill dog, I suppose. I need walks and wide open spaces but I, also, need a lot more time with people. “But I’m so ready for a game of naked football...” He laughs, his fingers stroking across my bottom lip, teasingly.
“Hey, who knows what can happen on a walk through the forrest.” I pull back and scamper off, him rushing behind me, trying to catch me up.
“You seen the new posters?” I ask and he chuckles.
“Yeah. I look awful.” He replies, fiddling with his fingers.
“To be fair, I’m not sure anyone can capture you in a way that honours your true beauty.” I state, in passing, and he slows a little. He shakes out of it soon enough, though.
“You see yours?”
“Yeah. The ‘Mississippi Dog Boy’. I’ve never even been to Mississippi, though.” I explain, chuckling.
“Though, it is better than your old sign.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I suppose the ‘Mississippi Dog Boy’ is a little more polite than the ‘Bitch Boy’, huh?” I laugh and he rounds me and backs me against a tree.
“I dunno, Eli. You’re still my little bitch boy.” He growls, lowly, and a shudder races up my spine.
“Jimmy...” He presses me against the bark and leans down to place sweet kisses along my throat. The angle at which he presses his hips against my own, I can feel him thickening in his tight pants. He stares down at me, all intimidating and... Those warm, brown eyes stare down at me like a predator teasing his prey before swallowing it, whole.
“Get on your knees, sweetheart, I’ve got a present for ya.” He grins and I do as I’m told. I descend to my knees, autumn leaves crunching beneath me. I’m eye-level with his crotch and I just watch, in absolute awe, as his fused fingers grope his lengthy cock through his jeans. Those housewives figured his fingers were good — I mean, they are — but they haven’t seen nothing yet. He lets out a ragged moan as I wait, patiently, for him to tug out his huge dick for me. Until then, I just cock my head to the side and look up at him with my big, puppy dog eyes (no pun intended). He shoves his jeans and briefs down his hips and... Holy fuck. Surely, I should be used to it, by now, but still...every time I see it... His cock is a thick nine-incher, the foreskin pulled back around the flare of the cockhead, his balls are large and tight and full, all under a neatly trimmed brown dusting of hair that descends, from his abdomen, to the base of his cock. He’s the biggest I’ve ever had. Pre-come already drips from the tip and he raises a brow at me. “Go on, then.” That’s all I need.
I lean in, taking down all I can of his cock. I only get to about six inches or so and I make sure to bring my hands up to cover the rest of him. As soon as he’s in my mouth, he sighs, hands bracing against my shoulders and the back of my neck. One thing that separates me from other award-winningly good cock-sucking faggots out there is that my canine mutation endowed me with a longer (and slightly rougher) tongue. I press my tongue against the underside of the head and his fused fingers clench in my hair.
“Oh, shit...” He let’s his head back, eyes rolling back into his head. “Eli, take it...deeper...” He sighs, backing me up until the base of my skull is against the tree. I can’t pull off... He pushes all nine inches into my mouth and, what doesn’t fit in my mouth, he pushes down my throat. With two hands in my hair as leverage, he begins to fuck my mouth in abandon as I try my best to accommodate. “Dear God, Eli...” He pants out as I reach down to unbuckle my belt and jerk myself off. “Not gonna last...!” I wait for him to finish down my throat but he pulls out.
He takes it out of my mouth with a wet pop and I cough and gag a little before recovering, watching his fused fingers coil around his cock as he jerks himself off. I watch, one hand still in my hair, leaning my head back to look up at him and the thick bar of his cock that’s about ready to explode. He pants out into the cool, evening air.
“Fuck, Eli, take it...” He groans out and I’m a little confused before the thick ropes of his come are painted onto my face. The bridge of my nose, my cheeks, my lips, my chin, my forehead and he comes so much that I feel like I’m drowning in it. He bucks into his hand the last couple of times before finishing up. My face is sticky and I bring my tongue out to lick away some of the come from my lips. “You’re so pretty like that, y’know? All helpless and covered in my come.” He breathes as he pets my hair and tugs himself back into his pants. I lick off what I can before reaching up to collect it along my fingers to clean myself up. “We aren’t goin’ back to camp until you look presentable, now.” He chuckles, softly, as I lick my fingers clean.