Burning Desire

by Ami Snow

  “That doesn’t seem like too much to ask,” Zachary said.

  I shrugged. “It would help if they were more…vampire-like, too. Graceful, sophisticated. It’s hard to find men like that in college.”

  “Is it?” Jacques seemed on the verge of laughter again. I realized that description fit them very well, Jacques’ giggle fits aside.

  “Well…” I trailed off, unsure what else to say. Zachary and Jacques exchanged a look, one that seemed to hold some weight. They looked, for a second, as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. Finally, Zachary looked back at me. “I’m afraid, Megan,” he said in serious tones, “that we haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

  “You aren’t really college students?” I blurted the first thing that came to my mind. Zachary laughed. “No, we’re college students. But we’ve been students before.”

  “Like you went to a different school?” I felt confused.

  “Like I’m three hundred years old.” His face bore no trace of humor. I blinked at him. “Look, just because I told you all of that stuff...”

  Jacques shifted next to me and reached for my hand. It registered again with me how chilly his flesh was. He smiled and lifted my fingers to his mouth. I felt caught in a fog as he pressed the tips to his fangs. They were cold and slick…and very definitely not made of plastic.

  “So you had your teeth filed down,” I argued. “Or those are fantastic fakes. Ceramic or something.”

  There was a soft sound of something retracting, and his fangs were instantly gone. The next moment, I saw Zachary smile, and where there had been only straight, white teeth, there were now fangs. I shivered. “Vampires aren’t real,” I murmured, but there was a part of me that was starting to believe them. Their skin, with only the barest hint of warmth, as if it’d been a long time since they’d fed. The teeth that couldn’t possibly be dentures. Their strange way of speaking and carrying themselves, as if they were so much older than their early twenties. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and a sudden, hot pulse of desire. In that second, I didn’t care if they were telling the truth or not. They were the closest to real vampires that I’d ever come, and I wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.

  It was as if Zachary knew what I was thinking. He leaned in then, and his lips touched mine. They were cool and firm, pressing into my mouth as if he would leach the heat from them. My mouth opened under his, and my tongue flicked out to touch the sharp points of his fangs.

  They were sharper than I anticipated, and the barrier of doubt I had erected fell a little more. I tasted blood from my tongue, sharp and metallic, and Zachary moaned into my mouth, his breathing coming faster. Jacques’ hands were running up my arm, his fingers trailing over the vein in my throat, the soft scratch of his nails sending sparks of desire through me. His hands went to the buttons of my blouse, and I pushed them away. “Not here,” I protested.

  “No one will see us,” Zachary promised. “I have made sure that no one will even notice that we are here.”

  Indeed, a couple brushed past us as if we weren’t even there. No one was looking at us. Couples hooking up at a party weren’t any strange thing, but certainly two men who looked like them lavishing their attention would garner some attention, even just from other jealous girls. It was as if we were literally invisible. Jacques hands went to my buttons again, and this time I didn’t stop him.

  I could see traces of my lipstick on Zachary’s mouth, red against the white of his skin and stained on his fangs. I wondered if that was my lipstick or my blood, and I felt my pulse start to race. Jacques had undone my shirt and his mouth was on my chest, moving down until his tongue flicked against my nipple, hard through the blue lace of the bra. I arched into him, and I felt the tips of his fangs pressing into my flesh as he sucked my nipple into his mouth. He was clearly being careful, and I wanted very badly for him not to be. Zachary’s hand was in my hair, his mouth on mine again, his tongue probing gently between my lips, tasting me. My hand ran up his thigh, my fingers against the front of his trousers, where his erection should be.

  There was nothing. I pulled away, my face confused. “Is this not…working for you?”

  Jacques took my hand and put it on his lap as well. There was a similar lack of reaction. “We are vampires,” he said flatly, and all of his mirth was gone. “You see why your comments earlier were so amusing? Without your blood, we can do nothing. We have none of our own.”

  I was drowning in lust. I could never have imagined this happening. I wanted to feel them in my hands, hard and thick, and I wanted them to pierce every part of my body, literally and figuratively. “Then take it,” I moaned, my hands flexing against them. “I want you.”

  “No,” Zachary said, and I whimpered with frustration. “Tonight is all about you, ma cherie,” Jacques said, his accent thickening. “Next time, if you are pleased, you can gratify us.”

  Next time. This was beyond my fantasies. Jacques’ mouth returned to my breast, his hand cupping the mound of flesh as his lips and tongue worked at my nipple, causing me to writhe and moan. Zachary’s hand stayed firmly in my hair, fingers tangled in my curls as his lips trailed from my mouth to my jaw and then to my neck, his tongue flicking out against my skin. My head fell back, exposing the pale column of flesh, practically begging for him to sink his fangs into me. He only licked, making trails of sensation down my neck, his tongue flicking over my collarbone, his fingers reaching for my other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as Jacques continued his ministrations on the opposite side.

  He kept going, his hand following the curve of my waist as his lips trailed over my stomach, and then he was on his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up over my knees. My legs spread, helpless against his onslaught. I would have let him do anything he liked.

  Jacques pressed me back into the couch, moving to kiss me, his hands still caressing my breasts. I could feel Zachary’s fingers slipping beneath the waist of my lace panties, pulling them down over my thighs. I lifted my hips to allow him to continue, and he pulled the panties down the rest of the way, tossing them aside. His fingers were between my thighs then, the pad of one fingertip delicately tracing over my clit, which was stiff and aching, throbbing in a pool of damp heat. I moaned into Jacques mouth, my hands gripping his waist as he ran his fingers through my hair, loosening the curls that Ashley had pinned into place. “When he’s done tasting you it is my turn, femme beau.” The lilt of his French only turned me on more, and I ran my hand down to his hip, nails scratching over his thigh. I wanted him naked and hard. “Isn’t it very difficult, not being able to…”

  He sighed, a sigh of deep sorrow. “I want you more than I can describe, cherie. And yet, unless you permit me your blood, I can only ache for you.”

  “You can,” I offered again, arching my neck. I trailed my tongue over his fangs, and he shuddered delicately. Zachary’s fingers were playing me expertly, and my hips trembled, my tongue pricking against his fangs, and his came to meet mine, licking away the blood. “Take it,” I whispered, and he moaned. “Not tonight,” he insisted, and I could feel the tension in his body. “The wait will make it all the sweeter,” he promised, and then he moved to play with my breasts again, my head falling back against the couch, awash with pleasure.

  Zachary’s fingers slid into me, caressing gently as his mouth came between my legs, his tongue darting out to stroke my clit. I tensed for a second, nervous of the fangs, but they were gone. I felt only his lips, moving over my soft, wet flesh, and I pressed into him, the pleasure building to a crescendo. I wanted him badly, wanted them both, but there was only their mouths and hands, working in tandem until my hips arched suddenly off of the couch, my hand gripping Jacques’ arm, and I moaned with a guttural sound, the pleasure spinning out of control. Dimly, I felt Zachary move away, and then he was on the couch next to me, toying with my nipples as Jacques took his place.

  If Zachary had been delicate and gentle, Jacques was the opposite. He attacked me as a s
tarving man might attack a feast, his tongue laving up the added wetness from my orgasm. I was trembling all over, the sensation extending to every nerve, and I didn’t think I could take more. I couldn’t imagine taking anymore. I felt hollow inside and aching, pulsing, hungry for something to grab onto. My hand fell uselessly into Zachary’s lap, opting instead to grab his thigh. His muscles were rigid, clearly struggling with the effort to maintain his stance on tonight’s pleasure.

  Jacques slid his fingers into me, thrusting back and forth, the tips curling to stroke me as he sucked my clit into his mouth. Barely recovered from my first orgasm, I fell into another, head over heels, my whole body shaking and trembling. Jacques pulled away, licking his lips, and sat back, clearly pleased with himself.

  “What about you?” I asked breathlessly. They hadn’t been wrong about the crowd not seeing us. Two men eating out a half-naked woman on a couch would certainly have been an attention-grabber. Everyone was milling about, dancing and making out and generally acting ridiculous. No one had even noticed what we were doing.

  Zachary pulled a slim white card out of his pocket. “Our address is on this. We have an apartment in the city. Come tomorrow night. Tell your friends you’re going out on a date.” I must’ve looked nervous, because he pressed the card into my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “You will be safe. I promise.”

  ---

  I felt ridiculously nervous the next evening. I’d dressed up more than normal. I was wearing a black dress that I never wore, except for dinners out with my wealthy parents and funerals. It was fitted and sleeveless, with a collar and a double row of thick black buttons. The skirt was flared out, reaching almost to my knee. I had worn a set of lingerie under it that I had bought a long time ago, and never even taken off the tags. I’d been waiting for the right time to wear it.

  This seemed like the best of any so far.

  I called a cab, nervously reapplying my red lipstick as we drove into the center of town, full of high-rises and old townhomes. Not surprisingly, the number I was dropped at belonged to a century-old mansion, renovated into apartments. The doorman let me up after I gave him the names of the men I was visiting, his eyes roving over me appreciatively. It must be fairly obvious what I was doing there, I thought ruefully, stepping into the elevator.

  I knocked on the door, and I had barely taken my fist away from the heavy wood when it swung open, revealing a spacious living room. Zachary was holding it, dressed in black jeans and a half-unbuttoned dark blue shirt that matched his eyes. He was holding what appeared to be a glass of wine.

  I was fairly certain that it wasn’t. Jacques was on the sofa. He was wearing charcoal grey suit pants, and was shirtless. He was also holding a wineglass, filled with suspicious red liquid. His brown hair was messy around his face, and I felt a thrill of desire. I stepped inside, and the door shut heavily behind me. Zachary reached out, his arm snaking around my waist, and he bent to kiss me. His fangs were fully extended, and they scraped my bottom lip as my mouth opened under his.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “Like a Renaissance painting.” He released me, and we walked towards the sofa, where Jacques was now sitting upright.

  There was a fire in the fireplace, and the air felt warm and smoky, redolent with desire. My heels sank into the thick carpet, and I would have wobbled, if I weren’t holding onto Zachary’s arm. There was another glass waiting on the side table, filled with red liquid, and I glanced quizzically at it.

  “It’s wine,” Zachary promised, his mouth curling in a smile. He knelt then, slowly sliding off my heels as I sat on the sofa, his fingers trailing sensually over the curves of my feet. I took a sip of my wine, feeling like a goddess at worship. Jacques had stood, refilling his glass from one of the two decanters, and when Zachary stood, he turned towards him.

  It seemed almost in slow-motion, as if in a dream. The two men leaned towards each other, kissing softly. I heard the click of their fangs, and Zachary’s hand came up to touch Jacques’ cheek, fingers stroking over his skin, curling into his hair. I felt my thighs part involuntarily, and my pulse sped up. As if in answer, Zachary turned towards me, Jacques’ mouth now on his neck, his hands resting softly on Jacques’ waist. “Touch yourself,” he murmured softly, his eyes fluttering closed as Jacques licked down the column of his throat. My fingers idly circled my nipple as I watched them, the first time I had ever seen two men together. I knew I would be invited to the action soon…nothing was happening without my help.

  It was only a minute, maybe, before they moved towards me, Jacques still stroking and caressing Zachary as he sat next to me on the sofa. He bent to kiss me, his tongue sliding into my mouth with dizzying familiarity as his fingers stroked up my inner thigh. I was radiating heat, suffocating with it, and I eagerly met his kiss, his fangs pricking my lips. He licked away the blood, his fingertips tracing the lacy edge of my garter, up the strap and to the smooth, damp surface of my panties. His fingers dipped under the edge, swallowed up by the pool of wetness gathering there, and he sighed into my mouth. “So hot,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers sliding into me, his thumb finding my clit.

  “I want you to come when I bite you,” he whispered, his fingers increasing their pace. “I want to feel you trembling when I drink your blood. And then it will be Jacques’ turn.”

  “And then?” I asked, my voice shaking. I was drowning already, so deep in my lust for these two men that I would have stayed forever if they had asked.

  “Then we will have you, and each other,” he said, his voice gravelly. “In as many ways as we can devise.”

  It was a promise I was eager for him to keep. I thrust my hips up into his hand, the circling of his fingers driving me closer and closer to the edge. I expected for him to ask me for a signal, but he needed nothing from me. He was playing me expertly, and just as I felt myself about to fall over the edge, his thumb firmly rolling my clit beneath it as his fingers moved in and out of me, I felt a sudden, searing pain.

  He had sunk his fangs into me, striking like a snake. There was that moment of excruciating pain, and then he pinched my clit between thumb and forefinger, rolling it as his fingers drove into me, and I exploded. I think I screamed. I saw Jacques, his mouth pressed to Zachary’s shoulder, nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of my flowing blood. I was coming harder than I ever had before, my skirt rucked up, my legs splayed, and a moment later, Jacques was between my legs. He licked at the juncture of my thighs, tasting the moisture that had spread there, and then his mouth was on my inner thigh, sucking hard to find the vein. I felt his fangs pressing into my skin, the sharp pain as they pierced me, and then the incredible pleasure again as Zachary’s thumb left my clit and was replaced by Jacques fingertips, stroking me as Zachary added a third finger inside of me and stroked as if he were fucking me with his cock. My entire being was centered there in that moment, the two vampires drinking my blood as I came on their fingers. It was beyond anything I had ever fantasized.

  When Zachary pulled back, I could see that he was hard. He unbuttoned his shirt and flung it aside, revealing a lean, pale chest. His hands undid the fly of his jeans, pushing them and his briefs down to reveal a thick, hard cock. He stroked it, squeezing the tip and moaning. He leaned down to kiss me, and I tasted my own blood on his mouth. A second later, I felt the absence of Jacques’ mouth and fingers, and Zachary’s sudden moan caused me to look down. Jacques’ mouth was firmly wrapped around Zachary’s cock, his tongue darting out to stroke the underside of the shaft, and I moaned with desire. I’d never seen anything like this before. Zachary reached for the buttons of my dress, slipping them loose, his hands moving under the fabric to caress my breasts. He slipped it off of my shoulders, his hands shaking when Jacques hit a particularly sensitive spot. He rose up then, Jacques’ mouth slipping off of his cock as he pulled me to my feet and slid the dress off of me. He looked at me then, and took a quick, sharp breath.

  I was wearing a black satin push-up bra, mounding my white br
easts up impossibly high. I had on black satin panties to match, over a black lace garter. Jacques, still on his knees, slipped his fingers beneath my panties and slid them down, the garter and thigh-highs still on. His mouth went between my thighs, lapping at me for a moment until my knees were weak, his hand on Zachary’s cock. I wanted it in my mouth. I sank to my knees, enveloping it, my lips sliding down his shaft until my nose touched his belly and his fingers wrapped in my hair. I reached for Jacques, undoing his pants and reaching inside to touch him. He was rock hard, not as thick as Zachary, but just as long. I stroked him rhythmically, and his mouth found my neck, sucking and drawing his fangs along my skin until I shuddered.

  Jacques stood then, and I switched to him, pushing him back onto the couch and taking his cock into my mouth. I had a feeling that he spent more time giving than receiving, based on the blissful look on his face as I sucked the tip between my lips, rolling my tongue over it and down the shaft. He moaned, his fingers digging into the sofa, and I felt Zachary’s hands on my hips, lifting me onto my knees on the sofa. His hand gripped my ass, spreading me, and I felt his tongue sliding between my legs. He licked me for a moment, waiting until I began to push back against him, and then he was up behind me, and I felt the tip of his cock pushing into me. I swallowed Jacques’ dick just as Zachary thrust into me, pushing me forward, Jacques sliding into the back of my throat until I gagged. He moaned, gripping the couch. “I don’t want to come yet,” he moaned, tugging my head off of him. “Just let me watch.” He ran the tips of his fingers over his hard shaft as Zachary fucked me, just enough to keep himself hard. “Fuck, you’re hot.” He reached out and tugged my breasts loose from the lace bra, so that they swung back and forth as Zachary thrust in and out. He used one hand to roll the nipples of each breast between his fingers, first one and then the other, still gently stroking himself. He groaned, leaning forward to lick blood that had trickled down the side of my neck. “Fuck…Zachary. Let me have a turn,” he begged.