It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have our final snippet from Nightside, An Erie Vampire Tale. I recently wrapped up this one so we’ll be onto something brand new next week!
Our word prompt today is “Fried”, not a word that my vampires aren’t particularly keen about, but we’ll try to calm them down and share a steamy bit of an interlude for our last excerpt.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
“Let him feed from me.”
The haze lifted for a brief moment as those words began to seep through the buzzing in my head. Yes. Yes, let me feed from him.
“You don’t know what you’re offering, Ian.”
“Sure I do. I’m offering him my wrist or neck so he can drink some of my blood. It’s good blood, for the most part. Might be a little Jameson flavor to it, or a lingering flavor of fried chicken, but no drugs or tobacco.”
“Ian…” I heard the trepidation in Vincente’s voice but the burn of hunger was overwhelming everything now. I could smell Ian, hear the blood coursing through his veins. I tried to sit up but slithered out of Vincente’s arms to the settee like a puddle of pudding. “Fine, fine, but know that sometimes feeding becomes more than a meal.”
I dozed off then, coming awake when the feel of warm flesh rested on my cool lips.
“Take his vein Akio.” Vincente’s voice echoed inside my skull. I licked at the skin. It was smooth and yes… blood was coursing just below the flesh. Someone gasped in shock when I flailed around in the dark, searching for something to hold on to and finding a thick forearm attached to the wrist being pressed to my mouth. I grabbed it like a starving dog would a haunch of ham and drove my teeth into the vein being willingly offered. The first pulse of warm blood touched my tongue and my eyes rolled back into my head. The taste of this man was unlike any human that I’d ever fed from. I sucked hard, noisily, greedy to get more into me.
“Sweet Fergus Ulster,” Ian coughed, his voice dropping into a deeper pitch as I suckled and groaned, my cock plumping up, growing harder with each gulp of his blood. God it was delicious! Sweet as bird song, rich as fine bourbon, it coated my chin and lips, slid down my throat and hit my empty stomach like a rushing river of energy, lust, and life. I arched up and Vincente murmured something soft, something about not chewing on the man. “Sweet Fergus,” Ian said again as I breathed in a deep pull of air thick with desire.
Things got a little unruly then. Vincente tried to remove me from Ian’s wrist but I was too hungry to let go. I whimpered and snarled, finally releasing my hold on him when my husband began rubbing the inside of my thigh in a provocative manner. Fresh, warm blood racing through me, I threw myself on Vincente, crawling over him, my teeth on his throat as I reached for Ian. My fingers slid through short red hair and I grabbed a handful, yanking his mouth to mine. I bit down on Ian’s lip, my fang piercing the tender flesh. Ian hissed in pain then ran his tongue over mine. Vincente held me tightly, pinning me between Ian and himself, my chest to Ian’s chest.
It was madness, a frenzy of blood and pheromones, tongues and hands, but it was perfect in all its groping insanity.
Copyright 2019 ©by V.L. Locey
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