I Want To Fuck Him

by Saber ShadowKitten

I want to fuck him.

I stare at the peroxide-blond in front of me and that's the very first thought that comes to mind. Not 'What are you doing here?' Not 'You have some nerve!' Not 'I was wondering when you'd show up.'

It's 'I want to fuck him.'

And I do.


Right now.

Right here.

In front of anyone who walks by.

I want to fuck him.




Until he screams.

Until I scream.

I want to fuck him.

My desires must be reflecting in my eyes, because he takes a step back from me. His own damnable blue eyes widen and his mouth parts in surprise.

That damn mouth.

The same one that taunts me, curses me, says cruel things about my past and my future. The same one that I long to shut up using a gag or a fist or my cock. The same one that I want to hear apologies and begging to come from until I kiss him just to get him to shut up again.

He closes his mouth and I see him swallow, his Adam's apple rising and falling with the action. My gaze shifts from the center of his neck to the side and I feel my fangs lengthen in response to my thoughts.

I want to bite him.


I want to fuck him.


I want to hear him gasp out my name as I toss him over the edge of oblivion.

I want him -- now.

He opens his mouth again to speak and I claim it before he can utter a single syllable. One of my hands dives into his thick peroxide mane, holding him still as I savagely plunder his mouth. My other hand grasps at the fastenings of his jeans and I hear the rip as the denim material gives under my hard pull. His arms are flailing in a way that tells me his brain hasn't caught up with what I'm about to do to him, what I am doing to him.

I tear my mouth away from his and spin him around. He lets out a strange squeak as I shove him up against the wall and yank his jeans to his knees. For once, he's not wearing that coat of his and I am thankful, because it gives me the opportunity to look upon his perfect, pale ass without obstruction.

I hear the telltale breath indicating he is about to say something and I smack him hard on that beautiful butt of his. He squeaks again in incredulity and I know that I'm grinning like a buffoon. A lovely red handprint appears on one marblesque cheek and I smack the other one to create a matched set.



Just like he is... when I'm fucking him.

I shove my own pants down, spread that sexy ass of his and slam my cock home.

He snarls in pain.

Oh yeah, I'm home.

I latch onto his hips and begin to pound into him, the blood from his torn inner lining allowing me to slide in and out of him easily.

He's so tight.

Almost like a virgin.

I love vampire ass.

As I relentlessly drive into him, my mind slips backwards in time to when I first took the young pup. I'd only topped him three times before I turned him. And he was a virgin. A ripe, succulent, deliciously handsome virgin I had the pleasure of plucking.

That was the reason I'd gone after him to begin with. It wasn't that often a mortal male above the age of twenty-one was a virgin, especially during that period of time.

He was twenty-eight.

Fuck, I love virgins.

You can smell when someone is a virgin. It's a wonderful aroma that drives the senses wild -- fear, uncertainty, longing and purity mixed in with the scents of arousal. The scent makes your cock harden even more and your desire to take the virgin even stronger.

I took him well.

I turned him so I could keep on taking his virginal ass, because once he'd changed, he'd forever be as tight as bands of steel.

God bless nineteenth century, middle class, religious families and homosexuality.

I pull my mind back to the here and now when I hear him whimper. I smile, reach around his body and wrap my fingers around the hard length I knew I'd find. I stroke him opposite of my thrusts.



Three times.

He gasps my name as he orgasms.


I release his cock after he's finished ejaculating all over the wall in the lobby of my building. I raise that hand and snag the back of his hair, pulling his head to the side.

I bite him.


He whimpers... in pleasure.

I brutally slam into his perfect ass, my fingers digging into his hip and scalp, and I drink his sweet blood.

I taste his satiation.

I taste his anger.

I taste his hatred.

I taste his fear.

I taste his uncertainty.

I taste his longing.

And, buried underneath it all, I taste his love.

I climax instantly.

He screams hoarsely as my fangs dig deeper into his neck.

I scream into the bite as I orgasm.

Indescribable pleasure shoots through me as I bury myself a final time into his so very tight passage. My cool seed spills from my shaft, filling his channel, soothing his tender tissue. It feels wonderful.

After I come down from the throes of my orgasm, I gently remove my fangs from his neck and run my tongue once over the wound. I release him and step away. I smirk at the soft pop my cock makes as I slide free from his still-bleeding hole.

I pull up my pants, cross my arms over my chest and I wait.

He fixes his own pants without turning, then he stands there for a short while, staring at the wall.

I wait.

He leans forward and bangs his head lightly against the solid surface, emitting a small squeak of distress. Then, he turns to me, the expressions of lust and hopefulness and longing easy to read on his face, and he says just a single word that makes me hard and ready to fuck him a second time.


I step forward, reach out and drag him to me. My mouth descends upon his with intent to ravage and ravage I do. When I break away, he is gasping for air he doesn't need and his face is flushed from the blood that has rushed there. He opens his eyes and looks at me with the same virgin-like desire he had for me many, many decades ago.

I latch onto his wrist and manage to drag him into my inner office before I'm on him again. This time the door becomes the wall as I shove him back against it after slamming it closed. I claw at his clothing, rending it from his body without a care for the material, until he is fully naked in front of me. I rake my eyes down his lean form and I literally salivate because of what I see.

He's perfect.



I'm out of my own clothing in seconds and I drag him down to the floor with me. I hook his legs over my shoulders, lean forward over him and enter him swiftly. The rapture on his face when I impale him is my undoing.

I capture his mouth again, violently plundering it with my tongue, my fangs cutting into his lips.

I fuck him mercilessly.

It's what he wants.

It's what I want.

I can handle that.

My hand finds his swollen shaft again and I pump it roughly between us as I hammer into his ass. Forever seems to pass with me doing nothing but fucking him and jerking him off on the floor of my office. Then, abruptly, everything explodes in a ball of white-heat.

I tear my mouth away from his with a roar as I climax a second time.

He follows me with a choked-off whimper.

It takes me much longer to come down afterwards this time and, when I do, I am reluctant to let him go.

So I don't.

I only move to the floor beside him and pull him back into my arms, my much larger body curling around his slighter one.

I lick the back of his neck.

He coos in delight and snuggles back against me more.

I smile and gently nuzzle his hair.

He begins to softly purr in contentment.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent of sex and blood and him.

I get hard again.

I love being a vampire.

I reach down and lift his leg up, then carefully push into his tender hole. His purring grows louder as I slowly start to fuck him, my hips barely moving as I slide in and out. I feel him wiggle slightly and I open my eyes, lift my head and prop it with my hand. I see his arm moving and I smile again when I realize he's stroking himself in time with my lazy thrusts.

We coupled this way for a very long time, uncaring of when we reached a third plateau. He came first with a sigh of pleasure, his slick channel tightening around my cock like a vice. I allow him to pull me over as he clenches and unclenches his inner muscles, grasping at my shaft.

I lay here with him for several minutes, drinking in the post-orgasmic languidness that's come over me. Finally, though, I move away from him and get to my feet. When I look down at him, I'm not too surprised at what I see.



False aloofness.

I shake my head in amusement and hold my hand out to him. A brilliant smile flashes across his lips before he smothers it and takes my hand. I cover my own smile as I pull him to his feet.

Such a silly little boy, he is.

I scoop up our clothing, then lead him downstairs to my apartment. Without caring, for once, I drop everything onto the floor as I enter the bedroom. I turn, pull the door closed behind us and the lock clicks loudly in the silence.

He jumps.

I smirk.

I purposely brush against him as I walk over to the bed and turn down the covers. I glance over at him with an arch of my brow. He looks at me warily, rocking slightly on the balls of his bare feet. I suppress my chuckle and pat the bed in invitation.

It takes him a moment to decide whether to take me up on the offer. I can almost see the mouse running on the wheel in his head as he debates whether or not he was about to do something royally stupid.

Well, he was, but I'm not about to tell him that.

I'm not about to tell him that if he accepts, I'm not letting him go again.

Of course, I don't even know why he's here to begin with. I suppose I'd better find that out.

But not now.

He walks cautiously over to me after he's decided and, the moment he's in reach, I grab him and toss him onto the bed. He squeaks and the bed squeaks at the same time, and the two sound so much alike, I burst into laughter.

He glares at me and his lower lip comes out in a pout.

He's sexy when he's being sullen.

Still laughing, I tackle him back onto the mattress and begin to tickle him. He doesn't squeak this time, he squeals like a stuck pig. He attacks me back and we roll around on the bed like a couple of really big children.

A pair of really big happy children.

Damn. This sort of feeling can cause me to lose my soul, and, if there's one thing I don't want, it's for that to happen.

Not now.

Not when I know that, with his implant, he's alone, like me.

Not when I see him now, looking at me with utter longing for companionship written across his features.

I bend forward and brush a kiss across his lips. Somehow I'll give him what he needs and not allow myself to need him in return. Somehow I'll make a place for him in my life and force myself not to be too happy. Somehow I'll find a way to keep my soul so that I can be happy.

But right now, I'm going to think of all the bad things I've done and brood a bit. And while I do that, I'll let him sleep, because I know there'll be only one thought that crosses my mind after he wakes up again.

'I want to fuck him.'