This past Halloween, I decided to write a short story for the Halloween Blitz as a homage to two of my favorite monsters - Shelley's Frankenstein monster and Stoker's Dracula. The result was "Love Between Fiends." You can find your copy here!
Blurb: When two of history’s most infamous fiends meet, they find that hearts, even dead ones, can love. But when Jack the Ripper comes to play in London of 1888, they realize the city isn’t big enough for them and yet another monster, forcing them to take matters into their undead hands.
Here's an excerpt! (from the POV of the Monster)
Again I felt the sting of tears as his words gave me hope, something I had not felt in more years than I could count. I found I could no longer help myself. I drew him into my arms and bent down, touching my lips to his. I was much taller than he, yet he seemed to fit perfectly in the circle of my arms, as if he were always meant to be there. Perhaps he was.
He returned my kiss with a hunger that surprised me. How could someone who looked like Vlad, such perfection in form and grace, find pleasure in the kiss of a monster? There was no denying his desire for me. I felt it in the way his tongue swept my mouth and in the way his cock hardened and dug into my thigh.
His hand brushed over my groin, fingers cupping my length. I heard a soft moan, full of both longing and relief, as if he were unsure until that moment that I was a complete man. He had seen me, of course, naked and flaccid, when he found me washed up on the shore, but never erect. I had been very careful up until then to keep my darker desires to myself, never believing he would return them. I suppose it eased his mind to find that I was a fully functioning male.
Vlad undressed me, swatting at my hands, disallowing me to offer the slightest help. He removed my coat, shirt and boots, and stood back, eyeing my naked form. I felt uncomfortable, embarrassed by what I knew was a body crisscrossed with zigzagging scars.
He didn't seem to see my many flaws. His eyes darkened until they appeared nearly black, and he licked his lips like a man contemplating a feast after years of famine. I spoke for no other reason than to relieve the tension I was feeling. "And you, Vlad? I wish to see you also."
Once he undressed, we took long minutes staring at one another. His skin was like fine alabaster, smooth and pale and unmarked by the least blemish; the only spots of color were his amber nipples, and the thatch of black hair at his groin. Even his cock, thick and hard, was as sleek, white marble. Each muscle in his body was clearly defined, strong and solid. He was true perfection; I wanted to touch all of him, every last inch, to lick and suck until I was drunk on the taste of him.
"Lie back on the bed," Vlad ordered.
"No, it is your bed," I demurred. It was nonsensical, I know, but I was overwhelmed by a fit of sudden anxiety, no doubt brought on by the erotic thoughts dancing through my mind. I felt if I lay on his bed I would somehow sully it, and anger him. Some small part of me still did not believe he could want me.
"Perhaps, but after tonight, it is ours," he said.
I felt a slight nudge pushing me backward although his hands never touched me. Vlad had never used his powers on me, and never would again, but at that moment I suppose he knew I needed to be urged. It worked. The moment I felt those decadent silk sheets against my bare skin, I lost all hesitancy. I lay back and eagerly opened myself to him, bending my knees and spreading my legs. I hid nothing, not the need in my eyes, not my raging erection, nor the small opening between my buttocks. I wanted him to touch me, to taste me, to enter and claim me. I was his, I knew it, and felt the rightness of it coursing through my veins.
He threw his head back and cried out, his fangs glinting in the candlelight. It was a roar of victory, as if he had long planned my seduction and finally succeeded. He mounted me, straddling my hips, our cocks brushing together.