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I Want To Fuck Him by I want to fuck him.
I stare at the peroxide-blond in front of me and that's the very first thought that comes to mind. Not
'What are you doing here?' Not 'You have some nerve!' Not 'I was wondering when you'd show
up.'
It's 'I want to fuck him.'
And I do.
Badly.
Right now.
Right here.
In front of anyone who walks by.
I want to fuck him.
Hard.
Fast.
Painfully.
Until he screams.
Until I scream.
I want to fuck him.
My desires must be reflecting in my eyes, because he takes a step back from me. His own damnable
blue eyes widen and his mouth parts in surprise.
That damn mouth.
The same one that taunts me, curses me, says cruel things about my past and my future. The same one
that I long to shut up using a gag or a fist or my cock. The same one that I want to hear apologies and
begging to come from until I kiss him just to get him to shut up again.
He closes his mouth and I see him swallow, his Adam's apple rising and falling with the action. My
gaze shifts from the center of his neck to the side and I feel my fangs lengthen in response to my
thoughts.
I want to bite him.
Viciously.
I want to fuck him.
Brutally.
I want to hear him gasp out my name as I toss him over the edge of oblivion.
I want him -- now.
He opens his mouth again to speak and I claim it before he can utter a single syllable. One of my hands
dives into his thick peroxide mane, holding him still as I savagely plunder his mouth. My other hand
grasps at the fastenings of his jeans and I hear the rip as the denim material gives under my hard pull.
His arms are flailing in a way that tells me his brain hasn't caught up with what I'm about to do to him,
what I am doing to him.
I tear my mouth away from his and spin him around. He lets out a strange squeak as I shove him up
against the wall and yank his jeans to his knees. For once, he's not wearing that coat of his and I am
thankful, because it gives me the opportunity to look upon his perfect, pale ass without obstruction.
I hear the telltale breath indicating he is about to say something and I smack him hard on that beautiful
butt of his. He squeaks again in incredulity and I know that I'm grinning like a buffoon. A lovely red
handprint appears on one marblesque cheek and I smack the other one to create a matched set.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Just like he is... when I'm fucking him.
I shove my own pants down, spread that sexy ass of his and slam my cock home.
He snarls in pain.
Oh yeah, I'm home.
I latch onto his hips and begin to pound into him, the blood from his torn inner lining allowing me to slide
in and out of him easily.
He's so tight.
Almost like a virgin.
I love vampire ass.
As I relentlessly drive into him, my mind slips backwards in time to when I first took the young pup. I'd
only topped him three times before I turned him. And he was a virgin. A ripe, succulent, deliciously
handsome virgin I had the pleasure of plucking.
That was the reason I'd gone after him to begin with. It wasn't that often a mortal male above the age
of twenty-one was a virgin, especially during that period of time.
He was twenty-eight.
Fuck, I love virgins.
You can smell when someone is a virgin. It's a wonderful aroma that drives the senses wild -- fear,
uncertainty, longing and purity mixed in with the scents of arousal. The scent makes your cock harden
even more and your desire to take the virgin even stronger.
I took him well.
I turned him so I could keep on taking his virginal ass, because once he'd changed, he'd forever be as
tight as bands of steel.
God bless nineteenth century, middle class, religious families and homosexuality.
I pull my mind back to the here and now when I hear him whimper. I smile, reach around his body and
wrap my fingers around the hard length I knew I'd find. I stroke him opposite of my thrusts.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He gasps my name as he orgasms.
Poetry.
I release his cock after he's finished ejaculating all over the wall in the lobby of my building. I raise that
hand and snag the back of his hair, pulling his head to the side.
I bite him.
Savagely.
He whimpers... in pleasure.
I brutally slam into his perfect ass, my fingers digging into his hip and scalp, and I drink his sweet blood. I taste his satiation.
I taste his anger.
I taste his hatred.
I taste his fear.
I taste his uncertainty.
I taste his longing.
And, buried underneath it all, I taste his love.
I climax instantly.
He screams hoarsely as my fangs dig deeper into his neck.
I scream into the bite as I orgasm.
Indescribable pleasure shoots through me as I bury myself a final time into his so very tight passage.
My cool seed spills from my shaft, filling his channel, soothing his tender tissue. It feels wonderful.
After I come down from the throes of my orgasm, I gently remove my fangs from his neck and run my
tongue once over the wound. I release him and step away. I smirk at the soft pop my cock makes as I
slide free from his still-bleeding hole.
I pull up my pants, cross my arms over my chest and I wait.
He fixes his own pants without turning, then he stands there for a short while, staring at the wall.
I wait.
He leans forward and bangs his head lightly against the solid surface, emitting a small squeak of distress.
Then, he turns to me, the expressions of lust and hopefulness and longing easy to read on his face, and
he says just a single word that makes me hard and ready to fuck him a second time.
"Again?"
I step forward, reach out and drag him to me. My mouth descends upon his with intent to ravage and
ravage I do. When I break away, he is gasping for air he doesn't need and his face is flushed from the
blood that has rushed there. He opens his eyes and looks at me with the same virgin-like desire he had
for me many, many decades ago.
I latch onto his wrist and manage to drag him into my inner office before I'm on him again. This time
the door becomes the wall as I shove him back against it after slamming it closed. I claw at his clothing,
rending it from his body without a care for the material, until he is fully naked in front of me. I rake my
eyes down his lean form and I literally salivate because of what I see.
He's perfect.
Beautiful.
Mine.
I'm out of my own clothing in seconds and I drag him down to the floor with me. I hook his legs over
my shoulders, lean forward over him and enter him swiftly. The rapture on his face when I impale him
is my undoing.
I capture his mouth again, violently plundering it with my tongue, my fangs cutting into his lips.
I fuck him mercilessly.
It's what he wants.
It's what I want.
I can handle that.
My hand finds his swollen shaft again and I pump it roughly between us as I hammer into his ass.
Forever seems to pass with me doing nothing but fucking him and jerking him off on the floor of my
office. Then, abruptly, everything explodes in a ball of white-heat.
I tear my mouth away from his with a roar as I climax a second time.
He follows me with a choked-off whimper.
It takes me much longer to come down afterwards this time and, when I do, I am reluctant to let him
go.
So I don't.
I only move to the floor beside him and pull him back into my arms, my much larger body curling
around his slighter one.
I lick the back of his neck.
He coos in delight and snuggles back against me more.
I smile and gently nuzzle his hair.
He begins to softly purr in contentment.
I close my eyes and inhale the scent of sex and blood and him.
I get hard again.
I love being a vampire.
I reach down and lift his leg up, then carefully push into his tender hole. His purring grows louder as I
slowly start to fuck him, my hips barely moving as I slide in and out. I feel him wiggle slightly and I
open my eyes, lift my head and prop it with my hand. I see his arm moving and I smile again when I
realize he's stroking himself in time with my lazy thrusts.
We coupled this way for a very long time, uncaring of when we reached a third plateau. He came first
with a sigh of pleasure, his slick channel tightening around my cock like a vice. I allow him to pull me
over as he clenches and unclenches his inner muscles, grasping at my shaft.
I lay here with him for several minutes, drinking in the post-orgasmic languidness that's come over me.
Finally, though, I move away from him and get to my feet. When I look down at him, I'm not too
surprised at what I see.
Hopefulness.
Fear.
False aloofness.
I shake my head in amusement and hold my hand out to him. A brilliant smile flashes across his lips
before he smothers it and takes my hand. I cover my own smile as I pull him to his feet.
Such a silly little boy, he is.
I scoop up our clothing, then lead him downstairs to my apartment. Without caring, for once, I drop
everything onto the floor as I enter the bedroom. I turn, pull the door closed behind us and the lock
clicks loudly in the silence.
He jumps.
I smirk.
I purposely brush against him as I walk over to the bed and turn down the covers. I glance over at him
with an arch of my brow. He looks at me warily, rocking slightly on the balls of his bare feet. I
suppress my chuckle and pat the bed in invitation.
It takes him a moment to decide whether to take me up on the offer. I can almost see the mouse
running on the wheel in his head as he debates whether or not he was about to do something royally
stupid.
Well, he was, but I'm not about to tell him that.
I'm not about to tell him that if he accepts, I'm not letting him go again.
Of course, I don't even know why he's here to begin with. I suppose I'd better find that out.
But not now.
He walks cautiously over to me after he's decided and, the moment he's in reach, I grab him and toss
him onto the bed. He squeaks and the bed squeaks at the same time, and the two sound so much alike,
I burst into laughter.
He glares at me and his lower lip comes out in a pout.
He's sexy when he's being sullen.
Still laughing, I tackle him back onto the mattress and begin to tickle him. He doesn't squeak this time,
he squeals like a stuck pig. He attacks me back and we roll around on the bed like a couple of really
big children.
A pair of really big happy children.
Damn. This sort of feeling can cause me to lose my soul, and, if there's one thing I don't want, it's for
that to happen.
Not now.
Not when I know that, with his implant, he's alone, like me.
Not when I see him now, looking at me with utter longing for companionship written across his features.
I bend forward and brush a kiss across his lips. Somehow I'll give him what he needs and not allow
myself to need him in return. Somehow I'll make a place for him in my life and force myself not to be
too happy. Somehow I'll find a way to keep my soul so that I can be happy.
But right now, I'm going to think of all the bad things I've done and brood a bit. And while I do that,
I'll let him sleep, because I know there'll be only one thought that crosses my mind after he wakes up
again.
'I want to fuck him.'
The End He Wants To Fuck Me by
He wanted to fuck me the second I walked through the bloody door. I didn't realize it, of course, because I was too fucking nervous at the
thought of seeing him again to even think that my sire might want to slam me up
against the wall and pound into me. When I saw him, standing there in the lobby, my mouth immediately went dry
and I forgot what I wanted to say. Stupid bloody arrogant poof always does that to me, and I fucking hate it. I
felt like I was still a tot being dandled on my mother's knee. And then all of a sudden I could smell him, could see in his eyes what he was
thinking. Shocked me so bad I backed up a step, and blinked. He wanted to fuck me and it was radiating from him in waves. I had no fucking clue what to do. I could only swallow tightly and watch in
fascination as he stared blatantly at my neck, and when I saw the flash of his
fangs, the bolt of his desire went straight to my own damn cock. But he wasn't going to do anything, I would have laid a bet on it, Angel
never gives in to his own wants or needs, and I started to say his name in
question. The goddamn idiot slammed his mouth down on mine before I even got the first
letter out. I couldn't think, it wasn't what he was supposed to do, it was so
uncharacteristic of him that I started to push away but he had me so tight by
the hair that I couldn't budge. Even after I understood what the hell was going on, what Angel was doing,
what Angel was *planning* on doing, I still stood like a mute moron in his
grasp. In an instant he had torn his mouth away from mine, and I thought now
would be my chance to speak, but no, he whirled me around with that hidden
strength of his and forced me flat up against the white, painted wall. Shit, he's strong. I fucking hate that he's so strong. My jeans were forced down around my knees and I realized that when I was
standing there like a dumbshit letting him kiss me, he had jerked open the fly
without my noticing it. He wasn't letting me talk, and it was pissing me off. Stupid bugger was
always lording it over me, and I wasn't about to let him treat me like a child,
and goddamn if I wasn't going to say something. As soon as I tried, he smacked me on my bare ass. Twice. I started to rage at him, and all that came out was a very manly squeak. I
could practically *hear* him grinning behind me. What came next should not have been a surprise, but it was, because I was
still brooding over the smacks. I'm an idiot. He drove that huge cock of his so deep into me that I could hear the skin
tear, not to mention feel it burn like a motherfucker, and I let out a snarl. It
wasn't like Angel to cause unnecessary pain. I liked it. The blood from the tears in my ass he created lubricated him quickly enough,
and he gripped me so tight that I knew there would be bruises later. His rhythm
was fast and hard, the way I knew he liked it, and good thing I didn't need air
because he had me so tight against the wall that I would have suffocated, had I
been human. I hate him. I hate him a lot. I hate that he's so strong and so quiet and so soul-having, and I hate that
he feels so damn good inside of me and I hate that I missed him so much for so
long and I hate that he left me, and I hate that now he's back and he's fucking
me and I hate that he's making me love it and want more and making me roll my
eyes back in my head and just whimper because there's nothing else I can do.
I hate to love him and want him and need him. And I especially hate that he heard me bite back a cry and reached around to
take my throbbing cock in his hand and stroke me. I hate it because he'd known
I'd be hard for him, wanting him. Thank God he did it or I would have died. It took about one millisecond for me to shoot my load all over the wall like
a teenager and immediately I was pissed off all over again that he made me come,
but of course *he* hung in there like a champ and gave no sign of his orgasm
even being close. He kept at it, the fucker, kept thrusting deeper and deeper still, until I
thought he would rip me in two, and I just know he was trying to show me up. But
then I forgot whatever the hell else he was doing because he used a hand to pull
my head to the side, and he bit me. Just like that. I've never felt anything like Angel's bite, and I never will again. I tried, I tried so hard to hold it back, but a whimper broke from my throat
and I knew he heard it because he began slamming harder and harder as I felt my
blood spurting into his mouth, and I wondered briefly what emotions of mine he
was tasting. Then he came, and I heard someone screaming. Two someones. Him. And me. He climaxed forever, and damn, it felt so good on the raw tissue of my ass.
I was too shaky to move, not to mention stunned, so I just let the wall hold
me up, and waited. When he finally withdrew his cock from my hole, a million years had passed. I
heard him fixing his pants. Then the smug asshole just stood and waited. Fuck, I can't stand him. I pulled up my own jeans with jerky, short motions to let him know I was
pissed, and stood staring at the wall. I would not turn around. I was not going to turn around. No fucking way was I going to turn around.
Even though, Satan Almighty, I was still *hard*. Fuck! But no, huh uh, I wasn't going to tell the big tosser that I wanted to do
it-- "Again?" I asked. Damn it! Christ, I didn't even have the time to regret it because he dragged me, like
the bloody caveman he is, into his office and shoved me straight into the door.
Thank God, because if he hadn't, I would have hated him even more. Angel tore at my clothes in a frenzy and I was about to tell him that I'd
paid a pretty penny for them and was he planning on giving me the cash? But I didn't. I didn't because he was devouring me with those dark eyes, staring at me like
he wanted to slurp me up and I was furious all over again because I wanted him
to. Then we were on the floor and he was doing that dominance thing he does, and
I didn't care one whit, I didn't care what he did to me as long as he just
fucked me. And he did, and I wanted it, and I wanted *him*. He knew it. He's always known it. Bugger all. I groaned out loud when his sure hand wound its way around my dick again, I
couldn't help it. Bliss. I waited this time, held out as long as I could, determined to outlast him no
matter what delicious things his hand was doing to my cock and his shaft was
doing to my welcoming hole. Lord, delicious didn't begin to describe it. I made it, though. Angel came first. Ha. I let it go right after that, shooting white come all over his floor. He kept holding me. What the fuck...? Why? I got even more suspicious when he curled his solid body around mine and
hauled me up against him, so my back rested against his chest. I lay against him, rigid. Silent. Then he darted out his tongue to swipe against the back of my neck, and it
was as if someone cut my strings. I melted into him. When he buried his face in my hair, the sound rose unbidden from my throat.
I purred. It just felt so fucking good, being there with him, and for the first time
since the Initiative had turned me into a freak, I felt safe. I was with Angel, and I felt safe. It was why I had come here in the first place. To find him. To find *me*. And, bloody hell, he was hard again. Gentler, this time, almost...tender? He slid in so smoothly and softly that I could barely feel him moving. I only
felt...full. Full of him. My purring never stopped, only increased in volume as he fucked me for a
third time. Gently. Easily. He didn't seem in any hurry this time to touch me, so I did it myself,
stroking my throbbing cock to fullness and keeping it that way. When he shifted behind me, I knew he could see what I was doing, so I gave
him a show. I closed my eyes. I pulled on my shaft, making sure I bumped my ass back into him with each
thrust he gave. It lasted forever. I don't even know who came first. Maybe me? Probably me, because Angel is made of goddamn concrete and can last for
eternity. Who cares. He lay sleepily behind me for a long minute before rising to his feet. I swear to all fuck, I didn't want to look up at him. I had to. I did. I looked. He studied my face for a long time. I don't know what he saw there, I don't
want to know what infantile expressions might have been written on my face. Finally, he held out his hand, and something blossomed in my chest as he
helped me to my feet. Downstairs. Bedroom. Door closed, and locked. I still kind of hate him. There's no way I was going to get in bed with him, even though he stood there
calmly with the covers turned back. Nope. No. Something pulled. Some force pulled me toward him, and I walked over
cautiously. Not 'cause I wanted it. And then, the stupid big idiot grabbed me and chucked me down on the bed like
I didn't weigh anything and started to fucking tickle me. Jesus! I started to fight him, for fuck's sake, I didn't want to be rolling around
on the bed with him like we were all a big happy couple or something. But then I laughed, I couldn't help it. It was funny. And I felt good. Because the loneliness had faded, momentarily. And I was tired. Suddenly, I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to just lie
there and sleep for a thousand hours. I would be fine, because Angel was right there, and just before I really
drifted off, I caught a gleam in his eye. I knew that gleam. He still wants to fuck me. The End
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