Lust Bites

by Kristina Lloyd

  ‘Yes,’ Simeon said crisply. He groped her breasts through her layer of thermals and ground his big swollen crotch against her. ‘And she’s all alone on the icecap.’

  ‘They’ll come back,’ said Esther. She pushed against him but she was weak in body and mind, all her training for the expedition disintegrating. He made her feeble and reckless. He was dangerous, she knew that, and though reason told her to resist, a stronger compulsion urged her to give it all up.

  Simeon fiddled with the fastenings on her insulated trousers and, when he pushed his hand down the front of them, Esther was practically boneless with lust, with that dirty greedy fuck lust he’d suddenly inspired.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she breathed as his fingers drove right inside her, and her defences were gone.

  He smiled at her, those violet eyes making her brain dance as his fingers made her sex churn. ‘Good?’ he asked smugly. ‘Want to suck my cock?’

  Esther whimpered an affirmative. She was all his, and he was doing something magical to her – truly magical because, despite her clothes being awry, she didn’t feel cold. In fact, she felt more comfortable than she had done since arriving. It didn’t make sense, and yet it was all OK.

  ‘My big hard cock?’

  ‘Yes, oh yes.’

  Esther wanted to fall to her knees, wrap her lips around him and feel his power in her mouth.

  ‘Well, tough, you can’t,’ said the man. ‘Maybe when Billy shows up he’ll feed you a length. Would you like that? Huh, would you?’

  Simeon’s fingers were flying fast on her clit now.

  ‘Yes,’ she panted. ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Nice,’ said Simeon. ‘I can just picture you between me and Billy Boy, a cock at either end.’

  Simeon’s glossy black hair brushed against Esther’s jaw as he leaned in to nibble by her ear. He nudged down her sweater, licked and sucked on her neck, his fingers still working her towards climax. The steady suck on Esther’s neck made her feel like a schoolgirl smitten by some clumsy adolescent eager to mark her. But her thoughts weren’t schoolgirlish, and she took the image Simeon had offered, conjuring up a picture of herself naked between two hard horny guys.

  In reality, the stranger was kissing her neck, his hand deep inside her underwear, but, in her mind, she was on all fours, Simeon fucking her while she clutched the hips of another man, her mouth pulling on the bar of his cock. Oh, it was such a hot fantasy.

  Billy. His name was Billy, Simeon’s friend. And he was the man in the dream, the face at the window, an amalgam of fear, secrecy and desire. He had unearthly eyes and a powerful body, and he clutched her hair, taking control as he shunted into her mouth, echoing Simeon’s words: want to suck my cock?

  Esther, on the edge of climax, was tipped over by a dart of pain in her neck. She could almost feel the bruise forming under Simeon’s lips, all the broken blood vessels blooming beneath her skin.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she gasped, slipping down the wall as the shivers gripped.

  Simeon sucked harder on her neck, and her orgasm was spinning right out, holding her there on a plateau of bliss. She gazed past Simeon’s shoulder, letting herself stream with the thrill, feeling dizzy and weak, the cabin blurring before her eyes.

  And then a shadow passed one of the windows, the same window through which the eyes had stared at her.

  ‘No,’ she whimpered, trying to focus and get a grip as her orgasm ebbed away. ‘No.’ She tried to push at Simeon but her limbs were too heavy. She wanted to tell him they were in danger but all she could manage was ‘no’ and every time she said it, the pain intensified in her neck.

  A shadow fell across the second window, darkening the room. For a brief moment, a pair of neon green eyes shone there in the lilac dusk of the snowstorm.

  ‘No,’ breathed Esther. A thousand tiny knives seemed to be stabbing into her neck. She was on the brink of collapse.

  Then the door flew open with an almighty great crash. The blizzard whooshed in followed by a man from the military. He was a colossal figure in T-shirt and combats, staggering forwards with the bulk of Doug over one shoulder. A mohawk was shaved onto his head, and he was lightly tanned, big and beefy, his skin gleaming wetly. His white T-shirt, soaked from the snow, clung to the contours of his chest, his tight nipples pricking through the cotton. He shot Esther a look, and his eyes were as hauntingly green as the aurora borealis that sometimes lit the northern skies.

  Esther screamed.

  Simeon gave Esther a shove.

  ‘Get off me, you slut,’ he hissed. Blood dribbled from his mouth, and he drew his hand across his chin, smearing it with scarlet streaks. ‘Billy,’ he said. ‘It’s not what it seems, man. I swear.’

  Billy unloaded Doug onto a chair where he sat, limp and stupefied, his brown beard glittering with lumps of ice. Doug frowned at Esther, looking confused. ‘Hello, lady,’ he mumbled.

  Clearly enraged, Billy strode towards Simeon who stood motionless, lips glossed with blood, as if he realised he had no escape.

  Esther’s heart was going mad. She knew this man! He was the one in her dreams, and, dear God, he was even more beautiful. He had such a perfect face, strong and handsome, and his mohawk, dusted with snow, was the colour of mink. It lay in a stripe as exquisite as a pelt, and a vein on his temple was a thick blue knot. Esther wanted to run her hands over his head, caress the silky line of his hair, wipe the wet from his skin and soothe the tension that throbbed in that vein.

  Billy cast her a cold glance then glowered at Simeon. He raised his fist, biceps taut, wet knuckles glinting, and landed Simeon a punch on the jaw. Simeon’s head snapped back and he yelped, staggering from the impact, a hand to his face.

  He might have fallen if Billy hadn’t grabbed hold of his top and pulled him upright. The blizzard whirled into the cabin, riffling paper and blowing all the clothes and ropes that were hung about the place. The gas lanterns swayed, sending eerie shadows swinging across the room.

  Simeon’s lip was split, blood mingling with the blood already there. Billy kissed him fiercely, sparing no mercy for the pain he must have felt. Esther stared, stunned. They looked so hot together, a lanky injured man overpowered by a mean muscular soldier, cruelty and rage entwined. Shadows lurched and shrank as snow span around them, melting on their flesh and whipping Simeon’s hair into a squall of black strands.

  Then Billy pulled back, leaving Simeon dazed, his mouth now clean of blood.

  ‘Oh, man,’ mumbled Simeon.

  Bending, Billy clasped Simeon’s legs and heaved him onto his shoulders. He gave Esther another hard look, one that seemed to threaten, ‘I’ll be back.’

  Then he turned and stalked out into the blizzard, Simeon draped over his shoulder.

  T-shirt, thought Esther, he’s only wearing a T-shirt. Then, for the first time in her life, she fainted.

  ‘He’s never punched me before,’ said Simeon. ‘Never!’

  ‘Never?’ asked Suzanne. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  She sauntered naked into the white domed bedroom, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and matching the clipped fluff of her pubes, a phial of Blud in each hand. Hope’s End, sealed off from the outside world, had a permanent bluish-white light, and in it Suzanne seemed unreal, her hair glinting too brightly, her skin taking on a milky corpse-like cast. Simeon approved. She looked like an evil futuristic scientist bringing him test tubes of blood.

  Billy he preferred in warmer tones and he put a lot of effort into keeping the main dome softly lit, candles flickering everywhere so the place resembled a gothic shrine in a massive igloo. Not that Billy appreciated it. ‘Bela Lugosi’s dead, don’t you know,’ he liked to mock. ‘Get with the programme, Sim.’

  But Simeon didn’t want to get with the programme. He was old school – bourgeois and affected, if you listened to Billy – and would far rather be living in a mountainside castle, a coffin for his bed, a cape around his shoulders. He really wasn’t cut out for modern life. It demanded so much of one.<
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  ‘He hit me last week,’ said Suzanne. She perched on the edge of the bed where Simeon languished in a sprawl of gawky self-pity. ‘Here,’ she said, handing him a Blud.

  ‘Dude, that’s different,’ replied Simeon. ‘I saw that. You said, slap me, daddy, you mean ol’ brute.’

  ‘Mmm, sexy,’ said Suzanne, remembering.

  ‘You enjoyed it,’ Simon went on, speaking gingerly. ‘What I mean is he’s never hit me in anger before. We’ve been together since … since 1726 and not once has he – What’s this?’

  Simeon looked at his phial of Blud, its glass casing clouded with cold.

  ‘I put them outside a while,’ she said. ‘Blud Slush Puppies. Neat, yeah? I sugared mine. Didn’t think you’d fancy it though. Sour’s more your thing.’

  Simeon pouted. ‘Cheers, babe,’ he said with camp offence.

  Suzanne shook her phial, removed the top and tipped the icy red mush onto her tongue. Simeon followed suit. ‘Yuck,’ he said as he always did, before listlessly tossing the phial to the floor. His hair streamed like black silk against a stack of white pillows, his lip was a thick and pulpy strawberry, and he imagined he looked quite the consumptive, albeit a touch more debauched.

  ‘Since 1726,’ he went on. ‘That’s a long time, you know, Suze. Oh sure, we’ve had our ups and downs but I still love the guy. Man, he’s been a cunt these last couple of decades though, a complete monster. I can’t believe he hit me, can you?’

  ‘It was only a little punch.’

  ‘It was a big punch, Suze,’ replied Simeon. ‘He fucking hated me when he did that. He could’ve broken my jaw. And all because I was having a slurp on his piece of pussy. All because I beat him to it.’

  ‘How could you beat him to it? Billy doesn’t do humans.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ scoffed Simeon. ‘I bet you a penguin he’ll do her. Do you think we make a good couple?’

  ‘Sim, there are no penguins in the Arctic’

  ‘See? That’s how much I care about this dump. I don’t even know what’s on the menu. Do you?’

  ‘What?’ asked Suzanne. ‘Do I know about food?’

  ‘No. Do you think Billy and I make a good couple?’

  ‘Course you do. You’re great together. Stop worrying.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Simeon sighed heavily. ‘I sometimes wonder if we’re only together out of habit. It happens in a lot of long-term relationships. I guess I always thought he was The One – in a non-exclusive, vampirey sort of way –’

  ‘Companion in life, fellow traveller and main squeeze,’ offered Suzanne.

  ‘Yes,’ said Simeon. ‘And a great fuck. But hell, I’m not sure any more. Nineteenth-century England. That was our time, Suze. Everyone half in love with death. Ah man, Billy looked good in sideburns and a frock coat. So fucking hot. Berlin in the 1980s was kind of cool, too. You know how I am for those Teutonic types. But basically, it hasn’t been the same since Queen Victoria died.’

  ‘Here, put your head in my lap,’ cooed Suzanne. ‘I’ll tell you a story. No, you tell me one. Tell me about Billy, tell me how you met.’ She climbed further onto the bed and rearranged the cushions so she was propped against them.

  ‘You know how we met,’ said Simeon. He nuzzled up to her, resting his head in her naked lap. He faced her feet and ran a hand down one slender leg before tracing idle circles around her knee. ‘I’m always telling you.’

  ‘Yeah, but I love it,’ said Suzanne. Gently, she finger-combed Simeon’s hair, drawing it back from his aristocratic face. ‘It gets me so wet. Go on. It’s seventeen twenty whatever, and you’re in this Molly House in London …’

  ‘Miss Tilly’s Molly House,’ said Simeon wearily.

  ‘Yeah, cool,’ said Suzanne. ‘And Miss Tilly, she’s like this prize whore who gets off on gay men.’

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Simeon. ‘The tavern was full of peep-holes. She’d spend half the night with her eye fixed to a hole, gawping at mollies getting sucked off.’

  ‘Even though she only had one eye.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Simeon. ‘She wore a patch.’

  ‘Because?’ encouraged Suzanne. She wound a length of Simeon’s hair tight around one finger and pulled steadily.

  ‘Ouch. Because someone took offence one day and stuck a poker in the peep-hole.’

  ‘Jeepers,’ said Suzanne, unravelling the ringlet of hair. ‘I love that story. And she still kept watching! What an amazing woman.’

  ‘She was very, very dirty. A complete fag-hag.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Suzanne, dreamy with admiration. ‘I can relate to that though. Totally.’

  ‘Man, those days were wild,’ said Simeon. ‘Billy was being Billy, you know how he is, a lone wolf prowling the streets, hunting for blood. He saw me lurking around St Paul’s, thought I looked like trade, so he followed me and some other guy, can’t remember his name. Followed us to Miss Tilly’s. It was crazy in there, always crazy. Guys in drag, drinking and dancing. I remember sitting on Billy’s knee, wearing some frilly dress in orange and blue silks, and wafting my face with a little Spanish fan.’

  ‘Ha, you in a dress,’ murmured Suzanne. ‘It’s hard to imagine.’

  ‘Hmmm, well, I was hard,’ Simeon drawled.

  ‘Actually, scratch that,’ said Suzanne. ‘I just imagined it. It’s very you. What was Billy doing?’

  ‘Oh, Billy was God’s gift that night,’ said Simeon. ‘He was acting like a real gent, stern and cool but, wow, so dirty. Man, he looked good, those bright-green eyes, that blond hair. It’s such a lovely shade, like champagne. Not really blond at all. I wish he’d grow it again. And he had his hand up my petticoats and he was wanking me off, watching my face, really watching me. And all these other guys were whirling about the room, skirts spinning, squealing and laughing.’

  ‘Oh, yum,’ said Suzanne. ‘And then you shot your load. Can we skip that part? Tell me how he made you a vampire.’

  ‘You know how he made me a vampire,’ sighed Simeon.

  ‘Yeah, but I could hear it again and again, and I’d still be happy,’ said Suzanne. ‘You’re like my favourite TV show, you know that? I love when it’s repeated and the best episodes just get better each time.’

  ‘My lip hurts, Suze. It’s not easy to talk. Later, huh? Just keep stroking my hair, will you? I love it. It’s so soothing.’

  ‘Mmm, I like it too. Why’s your lip taking so long to heal?’

  ‘Blud,’ said Simeon. ‘It makes you weaker, reduces your vampire powers.’

  ‘Ugh, I hate that shit. Tastes wrong, does you wrong. Nice Kitty. If we had a proper cat, I could stroke that.’

  ‘Hey, don’t diss my cat,’ said Simeon. ‘Renfield’s just unusual, that’s all. Do you want me to purr?’

  ‘Oh, yes please.’

  For a while, the two of them stayed like that, Simeon with his head in Suzanne’s lap, making rumbling noises in his throat as she raked his hair.

  ‘Where is Renfield?’ asked Simeon. ‘I haven’t seen him all day.’

  ‘Dunno. Probably out mousing or whatever you’d call it up here. Can I put plaits in your hair?’

  ‘Do what you want with me, babes,’ murmured Simeon.

  ‘Slut,’ said Suzanne affectionately.

  She drew strands of hair into thin threads and wove a slim plait which, because Simeon’s hair was in such great condition, came half undone as soon as she released it.

  ‘If you ask me,’ said Simeon, ‘the fact we’ve got a vampire cat should be our main worry. If anything’s going to give the game away, it’s Renfield, not you capturing a mortal and trying to keep him.’

  ‘Totally agree. I think Billy was way over the top,’ said Suzanne. ‘One person wouldn’t hurt, surely. And we’re so well hidden here. They’ll never find us.’

  ‘I know,’ sympathised Simeon. ‘Oh, and Doug was such a bear. I really wanted to keep him. Our very own sex and blood slave.’

  ‘Don’t, it’s not fair,’ said Suzanne. ‘He was hot. And such a
yummy cock. It’s been ages since I’ve tasted fresh meat.’

  ‘You only got here the other week!’ exclaimed Simeon. ‘Ouch,’ he added, touching his lip.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m greedy,’ replied Suzanne. ‘And I’m not used to Blud. Hell, I wish Billy hadn’t kicked off. Doug was lovely. Boy, he fucked me like a man possessed, like Billy does when he’s on form.’

  ‘I know. That was awesome. God, I so wanted it to be my turn next.’

  ‘I’m getting hungry,’ said Suzanne. ‘Really hungry. Maybe we should think about leaving, Sim. It’s the first sunrise soon. Isn’t that usually your cue to start making a move?’

  ‘Ha,’ scoffed Simeon. ‘Like we might leave while she’s still around.’

  Suzanne sighed and smoothed a hand across Simeon’s forehead. ‘Maybe we should bail and leave him to it. We could get to the coast under our own steam then head down to Kangerlussuaq. We could be on a flight to the States in a few days, maybe stay with Christophe and the guys in New York. I’m not really into all this returning to your roots shit. I mean, the temperature’s nice here but that’s as far as it goes.’

  Simeon turned, squirming till he was comfortable and facing Suzanne’s golden-haired groin. ‘Tempting,’ he said. He wriggled a finger into the slippery lips of her sex, trailing upwards to roll her clit. ‘But the west coast’s still some distance off, you know.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Suzanne, half pleasure, half agreement. ‘We could take my skidoo.’

  ‘Sun’s coming up any day now,’ said Simeon. ‘We’d need to be protected.’

  ‘We could take one of the blackout tents,’ said Suzanne.

  Simeon gazed at Suzanne’s clit as he fretted. ‘It’s quite a journey, babes,’ he said. ‘But, yeah. Maybe we could.’

  Suzanne parted her thighs a fraction wider. ‘Definitely we could,’ she purred. ‘All we’d need is a good meal inside us first.’

  Billy was starting to realise that Blud had its limitations. If you wanted merely to exist, to operate in a state of vampiric numbness then Blud was your man, no problem. But if you wanted to thrive, to suffer and soar and to taste it all, then only human blood would do.