Jeran and I hadn’t parted on the warmest terms and hearing through the nightwalker grapevine that he’d chosen to die had really pissed me off.
Okay. I know that I was the one who left him, the one who ended our “relationship,” for lack of a better word. But I always thought we’d have the chance to heal some of the gaping wounds we’d inflicted on each other’s psyches. And on each other’s hearts.
Would it surprise you to know that after centuries of acquiring knowledge, most vampires use all that wisdom to devise ever-more ingenious ways of torturing each other?
Well, really. What would
you
do to entertain yourself for eternity?
It had been so long since I’d been human, since I had any human emotions, that I was unprepared for being suddenly swamped with memories of loving Jeran. Remembering the insane feelings of lust and obsession that caused me to be vulnerable to his desire to bring me over. His relentless need to have me join him in his nocturnal world.
Even after I begged him not to.
Feelings I hadn’t experienced for centuries washed over me and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. The foreign sensation of the unfamiliar liquid moving down my face intrigued and baffled me. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d cried. It had been, literally, centuries. Quite frankly, I didn’t care for it much. It was bound to open up a coffin of worms that I’d long ago rejected. I scooped the tear onto my index finger and tasted it.
Damn Jeran.
I
don’t sleep in a casket. Yes, of course, I have several of them. I even collect them. They do appeal to the dark side of all of us. As a matter of fact, I have an extravagant specimen that temporarily housed the remains of a very well-known 20th century entertainer, before he was evicted so that I could add it to my collection. Don’t even ask, because I won’t tell you who it is, but I doubt if he’s lonesome tonight. Anyway, as long as I’m out of the sunlight, I require no additional containment.
Instead, I spend my dead-to-the-world hours stretched out on a luxurious Vampire Queen-size bed. Yes, there really is such a thing. The company that makes them is one of my entrepreneurial endeavors. Ever since the advent of the Internet, I’ve become a billionaire several more times over through selling my various lines of merchandise online. Or, I should say, my “great-granddaughter” has.
The evening after the dreadful and annoying crying episode up on my moon deck, I woke in my glorious gold and silver (yes, real gold and silver) underground sleeping chamber to find that I had company.
I thought at first that I’d left the music system playing all day. Sometimes I get sucked under (there is no negotiating with the sun) before I batten down the domestic hatches for the duration, and I arise to find the visual media center blaring or the audio receiver spewing a political talk show. Can you believe those things still exist? But whatever the source, the sound of this music was enchanting and beautiful.
I sat up, still nude, and discovered Niven. He was sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed, strumming an acoustic guitar and singing. Waves of pleasure cascaded over my body with every strum of the strings. His voice felt like a spectral hand exploring undiscovered erogenous territory.
He looked up from his guitar and gave a boyish smile, which made his beautiful face even more appealing.
Several thoughts ran through my mind, all of which fell into the category of “what the fuck?” It was impossible that he had found my secret retreat. No human had ever unearthed my daytime resting place. Not only was it difficult to find in the physical world, but it was made invisible through powerful vampire glamour. No. I must be hallucinating. First crying, now this. I’d heard tales of vampires who finally lost their minds after so many millennia. That had to be it. It was finally my turn to be one of the Unintentionally Brain Sucked.
As my bodacious breasts and I sat up, Niven ceased playing and singing. His mouth slowly relaxed until it rested in full sag – drool imminent – and he stared at my amazing mammary endowments.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” My tone was less than friendly. At that point I still wasn’t sure if he was really sitting there, if I was yelling at a thoughtform, or if I was ranting inside my own demented brain.
He put the guitar down on the floor, got up, walked over to the bed, and sat down on the edge next to me. His long hair fell in a dark veil across his “Born Again Druid” T-shirt and he wore an ornate medallion, which was vaguely familiar, on a silver chain around his neck. He smelled wonderful. I detected several different aromas, each more tantalizing than the previous. A subtle floral fragrance emanated from his shiny, silky hair, and he must have used an herbal soap in his shower. Floating on top of those was an essential-oil-type olfactory treat. Something musky and sensual. I almost drooled myself.
“I don’t know exactly how I got here.” He shook his gorgeous head. “I woke up this morning in the middle of the dream again. Only this time the man you called Jeran spoke to me and said, ‘Come.’ That’s the last thing I remember until I found myself standing in front of this house. I have no idea how I managed to end up in your room, watching you sleep. Or watching you be dead, whatever.”
He seemed fascinated with my boobs and kept moving his eyes back and forth between my face and my chest. I decided to put him out of his misery, while at the same time verifying that he was actually there. I picked up his hand and placed it on the nearest tit. He made a gurgling noise, raised his eyebrows and softly pinched my nipple, a look of rapture on his face.
Well, it turned out that Niven was immune to my gaze, but completely susceptible to the call of my knockers. I’d have to remember that. It might come in handy.
Okay, it appeared that Niven was physically there, and my psychic radar told me that he wasn’t lying about Jeran or about the mysterious arrival. As was my habit when dealing with something complex or confusing, I ignored it and turned my attention to primitive pleasure. There would be plenty of time to figure out the puzzle later. At that moment the vampire equivalent of hormones kicked in and all I could think about was riding Niven’s joy stick into the sunset.
I rose to my knees, leaned toward him, took his face in my hands, and stared into his dazzling blue eyes. I’m sure it was a trick of the light (although there really wasn’t much light in the room at the time), but I could have sworn his eyes shifted and sparkled, the colors bursting alive like the patterns in a child’s kaleidoscope. I caught my breath and had the odd sensation that I was forgetting something very important. Something I should remember.
I reached down and retrieved the hand that was hermetically sealed to my boob, claimed its mate, and guided them around to rest on my back. I wrapped my arms around his sweetly-scented neck, ran my tongue over his soft lips, and then kissed him thoroughly. He opened his mouth for me and I slid my tongue inside. He tasted of peppermint. His body was warm and alive, and it felt good against my skin. I could feel the blood pulsing through his veins and his heart beating fast, as he moaned into my mouth.
Never let it be said that I’m not accommodating. I scanned his mind to find out what his favorite scents and tastes were, and I manifested them with a thought.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the smell of cinnamon buns and realized it was coming from me. Well, different strokes.
Breathless, I pulled back from him and ran my hands down his heaving chest and then ventured lower. I appreciated the obvious excitement expressed by both his pounding heartbeat and his impressive erection. His hands recaptured my twin peaks and he gently pushed me back onto the bed, crawling on top of me. His mouth covered my nipples, giving a few seconds to one and then switching to the other, his tongue perfecting its circling and sucking craft more with each performance.
I wrapped my legs around him, grabbed fistfuls of satin tresses and moaned loudly.
He slid up my body, brought his mouth to mine and whispered, “Let me get rid of these clothes.”
“Oh, allow me,” I cooed, and thought his clothes away.
Feeling his hot, naked flesh suddenly against my cool skin must have pleasantly startled him, because he barked out a laugh.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to inhale him all in one gulp or nibble him slowly, but I finally chose to extend the exquisite torture and to drive him to divine madness.
We kissed passionately until the boundaries between our bodies dissolved and we fell into and through each other, metaphorically speaking, of course. (By the way, it would probably be lovely if you’d imagine your favorite kind of seduction music playing softly in the background for this part of the story. Or maybe something more dramatic, with lots of crashing symbols and delayed climaxes. Your choice.)
At this phase of the sexual frenzy it was easier to kiss with my fangs retracted, so I teased myself by not giving into the intense pressure to let them run amok. Instead, I built the need, savoring what was to come.
Niven was a talented and delicious kisser. It isn’t often that I get caught up in the mere act of pressing my lips against someone else’s, but I have to say I really got into it with Niven. It was as if he had knowledge and skills that transcended his age.
His hands slid over my body, hot and sweaty, arousing and delighting me. He worshipped at the dual goddesses for a while and then delved down lower into uncharted territory. His fingers explored the wet, fragrant landscape between my legs and I quickly began the trek up Orgasm Mountain. He left me hanging on the Plateau of Almost There and traded his finger for his tongue and laved me over the edge. I fisted my hands in his glorious mane and held his head in place, targeting the Yummy Spot on my clitoris. I came again and again, screaming his name, and finally lay there, limp, spent and thirsty. So thirsty that my fangs ached.
Niven crawled up my body, kissing his way between erogenous zones until he captured my swollen mouth with his very wet one. His erection was hard and thick against me and all I had to do was open my legs a few inches more and he would fill me. But I wanted him in my mouth first.
Using my dazzling speed, I switched positions with him and eased down his body, dragging my hair over him, stimulating every cell along the way. He moaned and instinctively moved his hips, almost ready to explode at the slightest touch. I used my tongue as only I can, and then took his entire cock and balls into my mouth, sucking and rolling them around as he gave me a running commentary about what he wanted to do to me. As I felt him begin his ascent up Ejaculation Ridge, I removed my mouth and crawled like a predator up his lean, muscular frame. My eyes wild (I assume, having heard all about my feral eyes from lovers in the past), I straddled his hips, took his painfully throbbing cock into myself and rode him to ecstasy.
He screamed his release and I joined him. A howling good time was had by all.
But I was so thirsty. I knew from having created hordes of Brain Sucked Lovers, that blending sex and blood drinking was a recipe for disaster. Or at least a recipe for having to find yet another disposal site for yet another cerebrally vacated bed partner. And, quite frankly, there was something about Niven that made me especially aware of my proclivities and equally sure that I didn’t want to lose him that way.
My fangs had finally said “fuck it,” and extended themselves of their own accord. I lay there on top of Niven, breathing heavy, luxuriating in the waves of orgasmic aftershocks vibrating through my body, and all I wanted to do was drink his blood. In fact, for my fangs it wasn’t a matter of if. It was only when.
I almost had myself distracted from the lure of his neck when he opened his luminous baby blues and pulled me in for a deep, wet kiss. His tongue encountered my fangs and they nipped him, allowing the tiniest drop of blood to flow into my mouth. I was overcome by the need to feed on him and I made growling noises as I turned his head roughly, positioning my mouth over his pulsing vein. Just as I was about to strike…
“Zara! Stop!”
My head snapped up and there he was. Just like in Niven’s dream. Jeran. Dead Jeran.
Shocked, my fangs retracted and I sat up, Niven forgotten.
The visitor looked solid. No wispy materialization or ghostly ectoplasm. His scrumptious features were as clearly defined as they’d ever been. He was wearing clothing from an earlier century – skin-hugging pants, high black boots, a brocade jacket, and a white shirt with lace at the neck and wrists.
“Jeran? Is it really you?”
He held out both hands and magically covered the distance between where he’d been standing and the bed.
“Yes. It is. Or at least an aspect of me.”
I reached out, took his hands and he pulled me up off the bed so that I was standing in front of him, our bodies touching.
“I have missed you, Zara.” He brought his lips down and pressed them against mine. The memory of the long-ago kisses we’d shared made my knees feel weak. The familiar scent of him tightened the muscles between my legs.
It was wonderful to touch him again. To run my hands over his strong, hard body, his baby-soft hair. To feel the special vibration that sparked between the two of us – creator and created. I hadn’t let myself fully feel the depth of the loss of him. Nor admitted to myself how much he mattered.
If this was a hallucination or a haunting, I was prepared to fully enjoy every minute of it.
Slowly easing our lips apart, I took his face in my hands, giving him the full purple treatment.
“Are you dead, Jeran?”
“Well,” he grinned. “That requires a rather lengthy explanation. I have discovered that
dead
is not what I thought it was.”
Jeran turned his head to Niven, which shook me out of my befuddlement and reminded me that we weren’t alone. I shifted my attention back to the delightful eye candy sprawled on my bed.
My tall, pale, and handsome guest pulled out all the stops and sent Niven a potent burst of his goose-bump-raising, seductive, magnetic vocal talents.
“Hello, Niven. I have waited a long time for this moment. Sleep now.”