“Give me a second.” I kiss Riley’s chin in apology as I remove their hands from my rear. “I’ll be quick—that’s what she said,” I add before they get the chance twice in a row.
Riley snorts and lets me go. Before they can change their mind, I walk over to the guard house and rap lightly on the window. At first nothing happens, but then the window creaks open, and the light gets brighter. I squint, wishing I’d kept on my sunglasses.
“What you want?” a rough voice asks. It’s a gargoyle, his stony face set in a frown. One of his protruding fangs is chipped, and his eyes glow yellow.
“Excuse me,” I say in my sweetest voice, “I’m a resident pass holder.” I open my purse and pull out a laminated white ID card, which I’ve already removed from the back of my wallet for convenience.
The gargoyle gatekeeper doesn’t take the card. “We’re closed,” he grunts, preparing to shut the window again.
“I understand, but I’m a vampire.” The guard and I both know that all public institutions, and most privately-owned ones too, are supposed to make accommodations for nocturnal beings. I do all right in the daytime with sunglasses, consistent sunscreen application, and proper clothes coverage, but some other vampires aren’t as hardy as me. It all comes down to chance, really, after making The Choice.
I wonder how Riley would react? Werewolves don’t always take to vampirism well…No, a more sensible voice in my head says. Don’t think about that. This isn’t a decision either of you have to make right away.
The gargoyle grumbles, but he finally takes my ID and scans it, the light from his eyes bouncing off the card’s plastic laminate. “Fine.” He hands my card back and disappears inside the guard house. A moment later, the gate swings open. Although it looks old fashioned, it’s also electronic.
“Thank you very much,” I call out, hoping the guard can still hear me. I don’t receive a response, so I return to Riley, who’s snickering under their breath and staring at the top of the gate.
“Heh. Lookit.” They point up at the large metal cross that looms overtop the entryway. Its spearlike tip resembles a shaft thrusting upward into the starry sky, and the curling, decorative vines that fill the space between the middle of the cross and the bottom look like two giant balls.
I can’t help but chuckle as I remember my first time visiting St. Louis Cemetery #1, many years ago. Seeing the stupid design above the gate was one of the few things that had made me smile on that gloomy grey day. “Appropriate, isn’t it?” I murmur as I take Riley’s hand, leading them under the phallic cross and into the cemetery.
Beyond the gate, tombs line both sides of the path. They look like mismatched miniature houses, and no two are the same size, shape, or color. While Riley takes it all in, craning their head in every direction to see as much as possible, I watch their face. Their nervousness has been replaced by a look of fascination, and it’s pretty adorable to witness.
“This is incredible,” they whisper, grinning with excitement.
“It is. There’s a reason Mark Twain called it the City of the Dead.”
I squeeze Riley’s hand tighter as I lead them off the path, into one of the narrow ‘alleyways’ that runs between the tombs. “There are some amazing people buried here. Plessy, the plaintiff in Plessy v. Ferguson. Dutch Morial, the first Black mayor of New Orleans. And…Queen Marie Laveau.”
Riley’s forehead puckers. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“She’s probably one of the most famous voodoo priestesses in American history. Some people still try to break into the cemetery and make wishes. That’s why all the security. The legend says if you draw three x’s on the wall of her tomb, she might grant your request.”
“That’s not where we’re goin’, is it? Because I can be adventurous when I wanna be but fooling around at a voodoo priestess’s tomb is a line my superstitious side ain’t gonna cross.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, baby. I guarantee the owner of the tomb we’re visiting won’t mind us stopping by.” We turn another corner, and then we’re there, in front of a modest two-story tomb of white marble. It’s newer-looking than most of the other tombs nearby, and the embedded nameplate is recent enough to gleam. There are no dates yet, but the name reads: Isabeau LaCour.
“You?” Riley asks, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Me.” I drop Riley’s hand, resting my palm on the tomb’s cool marble face as I drift back in time within my own mind. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a bit of a fascination with death. You can call it depression, I guess, for simplicity’s sake, but it’s more than that. I thought about death often. Feared it. Spent a lot of time wondering what comes after.” I try to look at Riley, but I know I’ll just see worry on their face, and I can’t bear that right now.
“As I got older, I learned to take a strange sort of comfort in the fact that, no matter how bad things might get for me, there was a way out. Of course, ‘escaping’ might’ve sent me somewhere worse than here. Honestly, I don’t know what I believe about the afterlife or any of that.”
With a sigh, I remove my hand from the marble, allowing my shoulders to slump. “When I met Natasha and considered making The Choice, I bought a tomb here. Before, when I was mortal, if I got really depressed I could think to myself, ‘Maybe a bus will hit me tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get cancer or some fatal disease.’ It sounds stupid, but…” My eyes start to sting, and I blink back tears. “Knowing I might die randomly at any time kept me from taking matters into my own hands more than once.”
“Izzy…” Riley reaches out, grasping my shoulder. The warm weight of their hand is comforting, and I turn to face them at last. “It ain’t stupid at all. Death is scary but living can be scary too.”
“I know,” I say in a shaking voice. “That’s why I bought this tomb. To remind me that even though I’m essentially immortal, I don’t have to live forever unless I’ve got something to live for. Undeath is difficult, Riley. These are questions you’ll have to think about if you want to…before you decide to…” I exhale in frustration. “Sorry. It feels strange for me to talk about this. Natasha never wanted to.”
“Well, ain’t she a peach,” Riley mutters.
I have to laugh at that. “Couldn’t have said it better. She considered undeath a never-ending party, but for us—for people who aren’t self-centered narcissists—it’s harder.”
Riley moves their hand on my shoulder to my face, cupping my cheek and wiping their thumb through one of my tear-tracks. “Just ‘cuz something’s hard don’t mean it ain’t worth holding onto.” Their other arm wraps around my waist, and they pull me close, encouraging me to rest my head beneath their chin.
I sigh, feeling more relief than I expected. The future doesn’t seem quite so scary when Riley’s holding me. “You right, mon chou. You right.”
We stay like that for a while, hugging each other and letting the nighttime darkness wrap around us like a warm, heavy blanket. Riley sways me back and forth, gently at first, then with a noticeable rocking motion. It’s almost like we’re slow dancing to music no one else can hear.
At last, I raise my eyes to look at Riley’s face. It’s pale in the moonlight, but absolutely overflowing with love. “So, uh,” they stammer, with something of a silly smile, “feel free to slap me if I’m outta line, but…I know something else that’s hard.” They squeeze my ass and give their hips a little push, making sure I feel the shaft of their cock pressed into my lower belly.
A fresh wave of tears comes, but they’re from laughter. I bury my face in Riley’s shoulder and absolutely lose it, clutching their arms and giggling into the material of their shirt. “Hey now,” Riley huffs, sounding a little hurt, “I was just tryin’ to lighten the mood. You’re the one who wanted to come here and—”
I manage to suppress my giggles into softer gasps, and I start kissing the column of Riley’s throat instead. The warmth radiating from their skin increases, and I feel them tense as I nip a tender
spot underneath their right ear. “Don’t apologize. You’re perfect. Ridiculous, but perfect.” And that’s the truth. Today has been messy and confusing as hell, but Riley has been my anchor through it all.
Riley claims my lips with theirs, growling possessively as they slide their tongue into my mouth. I open for them, and before I know it, my shoulders hit hard marble. Anywhere else in this cemetery, I would’ve felt guilty about desecrating somebody’s final resting place. But I’ve bought this tomb, and it feels strangely right to affirm my choice to live up against the reminder that I still have the choice to die.
Living, even in undeath, is sweeter for having chosen life deliberately. Living is sweeter for having chosen Riley, too, and extra sweet for being chosen by Riley in return. Sweet like a fresh strawberry, or maybe like the pulse of Riley’s blood, which I can smell and almost taste while I suck on their tongue.
When I bloody the kiss, Riley doesn’t mind. They’re used to my teeth, I guess, because they shudder as my fangs nick their bottom lip. I’ve been too anxious to realize how hungry I am, and once I get a taste of Riley, I have to remind myself to keep it slow. I don’t want to take so much blood that they start to feel woozy.
“You’re so pretty,” Riley rumbles into the string of kisses, and I almost start snickering again. Their voice is low and rough and possessive, and juxtaposed with the sweetness of their words, I can’t help but see humor in the contrast. I think that’s why I love Riley. They make me laugh without even trying. Despite the happy face I put on for the world, I don’t laugh genuinely very often…except when I’m with them.
“You’re amazing,” I say. Riley preens a bit under my attention as I run my hands up and down their strong arms. I lick another drop of blood away from the small puncture mark I’ve left in their lip, and then move my fingers lower, unfastening their fly.
Riley’s cock is warm and heavy in my hand. Thanks to the enchantment, it feels incredibly lifelike as I wrap my fist around it, so much so that I can hardly tell where the toy joins their body. I start stroking, delighted by the pool of wetness welling at the tip. It’s proof that Riley wants me, that I am desired. It isn’t the only proof, either. Riley’s eyes glow a beautiful yellow as they look down at me, and I can see their sharpened teeth lengthening further.
Desire tugs sharply within my core. There are lots of misconceptions about werewolves and their different forms, but I’ve seen the truth plenty of times—and I’ve learned to appreciate Riley’s wild side, although going feral is no guarantee that they’ll forego their usual gentleness. But I want them to forego it, because for me, tonight’s about feeling. It’s about filling myself up with good emotions, so I can remember why I’m still here on this earth. Why I want to stay.
I give Riley’s cock another teasing stroke, and that seems to be their breaking point. With a growl, they pull my hand away and pin me more firmly to the side of the tomb. I clutch Riley to me tightly as their sharpened nails run up my legs, bunching my skirt against my belly. Their fingers graze me through my panties at first, stroking the soaked fabric, and I tremble as they pull the elastic to one side for full contact. Damn, their hands are magic. They rub my clit in swift circles that feel oh-so-good, and my eyes roll back in my head.
Soon I’ve got one leg wrapped around Riley’s waist and my teeth set against the throbbing pulse point in their throat. “Go ‘head,” they growl, and I bite down, letting their rich taste wash over my tongue. At the same moment, their fingers slip inside me, first one, then two, hooking forward to hit a swollen spot against my front wall. I feel like I could come right here and now. Riley’s only been inside me for a few seconds, but they’re hitting all the perfect places.
Riley seems to sense that I don’t want gentle this time. They take me hard and fast, muttering things in my ear. Sweet things. Things that are completely disparate from the rough plunge of their fingers and the flexing of their forearm. “Love you, Izzy. So soft and warm. So beautiful.”
I feel beautiful as the heel of Riley’s hand grinds into my clit, making my entire body quiver. Heat is rising within me, a heat my cold flesh doesn’t often feel. As their fingers curl and their life stains my lips, a sense of peace washes over me. Moments like this are the reason the burden of eternal life seems worth it.
My first peak crests gently at first. The tingling sensation breaks over my body in a gentle wave, and the tight knot in my chest unravels. Instead of staring down the future, I’m living in the present, a present where Riley, the person I love, is kissing me, tasting me, taking me.
As they realize I’m coming, Riley doubles their efforts, speeding up the motion of their hand and applying more pressure. The waves grow tumultuous, crashing more violently, stripping away my fears in their undertow. I could exist for an eternity in this ocean, in this fragile time and place where everything is right.
Eventually, I relax, enjoying the aftershocks rolling through me. I release Riley’s neck and gaze up into their eyes. The look on their face is pure lust, undiluted, and I realize they haven’t come yet. I fondle the pointed tips of their ears, scratching their scalp beneath their shaggy blonde hair, and repeat the same words they said to me earlier. “Go ahead.”
That’s all the permission Riley needs. They withdraw their fingers, and my inner walls clench in protest until the head of their cock settles against my entrance. Despite how thick Riley’s shaft is, they slide inside me easily. I’m dripping wet, and even though I’ve just come, I want the joining of our bodies so badly I think I might cry. The stretch makes me gasp, but with pleasure instead of pain. All of the hurt is good hurt, the cleansing kind.
“Slow down?” Riley asks, their brow knitted worriedly above the glowing lanterns of their eyes.
That’s the last thing I want. I press my heel into Riley’s lower back, urging them to sink forward another inch. I crave them with every fiber of my being, and I want them to know it. “Harder,” I beg, clutching their shoulders to let them know I mean business.
“Anything for you, sunshine.”
Riley slides both hands under my ass and lifts me off the ground, bearing my weight completely as they thrust the rest of the way inside me. The stars in the sky above us aren’t half as bright as the ones that float before my eyes. For all I claim not to know what I believe about any sort of afterlife, I’m pretty sure I catch a glimpse of heaven as Riley moves within me.
So big. That’s the only coherent thought in my head. Riley’s girth is splitting me open just how I love it, and each movement reminds me exactly why I wanted this. I’m full at last, and there’s no room for anything else in me but Riley, physically or emotionally.
Then, they start moving. Riley’s rhythm carries me higher than when I’m actually flying. My heart stirs within my breast, fluttering faster than usual, almost as though I’m alive again. It jolts as Riley takes their turn at biting, sinking their teeth into my neck and growling around the mouthful of flesh they’ve claimed for their own. Their hips pump faster, and the length of their cock throbs within me.
Two more thoughts battle within my mind, trying to drown each other out: too much and need more. The harsh slap of Riley’s pelvis against mine, the way they plunge in and out, the low grunts they make around my aching shoulder, all of it causes an explosion of sensation that I can barely contain. But it leaves me addicted, too. Each time Riley withdraws even a few inches, I’m left empty. There is a hollow pit deep within my core that wants nothing more than to hold them forever.
Forever. The taste of that word isn’t so scary anymore. A dam breaks, and all my feelings flow out of me as I mumble beside Riley’s ear, kissing and nipping it desperately. “Yes. I want you. Want you always. Please, more?”
I whimper as Riley withdraws from me, leaving me empty, but it’s only so they can set me on my feet, turn me around, and press me face-forward into the front of the tomb. I barely have time to find a hand-hold along its smooth marble sides before they tear my panties down completely and slot their hips a
gainst mine, pushing eagerly back inside.
The new angle is perfect. Positioned behind me, pinning me between their arms, Riley can hit places that leave me panting and pleading for more. My breath, much faster than a vampire’s should be, leaves a watery patch of condensation on the marble in front of me. I don’t care. I want everything they have to give me, and I know I won’t ever get enough.
“Love you,” Riley snarls again, running their tongue along the side of my neck. It’s raspier when they’re like this, and it sends delicious tingles zipping up and down my spine. Their strength is awe-inspiring, and even though being a vampire gives me extra strength too, they’ve got just enough to keep me pinned and squirming.
The only thing that comes out of my mouth is a needy cry. Watery tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I can’t stop smiling. Even when I’m completely at Riley’s mercy, I always feel so safe. The crack of their palm against the fullest part of my ass does nothing to lessen that feeling of security. Riley slows down their thrusts and keeps their hand cupped protectively over my rear, waiting for my reaction. Although I’m facing the other direction, I can practically see their eyes light up when I moan and arch back for more.
“You ain’t gotta worry about all the heavy stuff right now,” they huff beside my ear, hitting my cheek with puffs of hot breath. “Just worry about feelin’ good. And makin’ me feel good.”
My heart swells with love. Riley understands. They get me. With them, I’m able to let go in a way I never could with Natasha, or anyone else. We just fit, and for the first time, I believe—really believe—that the two of us might have a chance. That we might be more than a doomed romance.
Riley pulls me back to the present with another smack to my ass. It’s not a hard spanking, but it’s hard enough to leave my backside warm and throbbing. I spread my thighs wider, trying to give Riley more depth, but there isn’t any extra room for them anyway. Their cock bottoms out on every thrust, and I can feel the soft, trimmed thatch of their pubic hair tickle my swollen outer lips.
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