Erotic Fantasy: Tales of the Paranormal

Sample Stories.       




This artwork is by Boris Vallejo


The sixty-nine stories and poems in Erotic Fantasy: Tales of the Paranormal explore many different aspects of what is consider paranormal; vampire, werewolf, ghosts, myths, horror, demons, angels, science fiction, fantasy, etc.  As well as different aspects of erotica; heterosexual, bi-sexual, gay, fetish, romantic etc.  I have selected a couple of samples stories to give you a taste of what is in Erotic Fantasy: Tales of the Paranormal. Enjoy!



“Portrait Portal” —Ann Cory


I walked through the cold tomb-like room.  Each step was light and languid.  Something seemed to beckon me forward, pulling at my very being.  As I passed the gold laden antique mirror, I did not see my horrific reflection.

My interest had always been studying and drawing portraits of gods.  They represented strength and wisdom, and I felt as if their eyes told a story.  I had become intrigued with such a god called Drinyian.  After months of researching about his life and personality, I was ready to give him life.  I felt drawn to him, compelled to sketch his eyes in such a way that they could see right into our world.  Setting up my easel, renewed energy raced through my veins. First I sketched the basic features of his face with a light pencil and then filled in the details with careful attention.  Throughout the process I had felt someone guiding my hand, giving him realistic features.  After spending hours perfecting the sketch I stepped back, smiling and proud.  Never before had I drawn anything so life-like that it threatened to step off the page.  I couldn't tear myself away from the intensity in his eyes.  My body stirred, a deep yearning pulled from within.  I longed to caress his strong chiseled face.  Instinctively I reached out and brushed my fingers against his cheeks.  I gasped, for instead of the crispness of the paper, I had touched skin.  My body weakened as I fell to the floor, my mind flooding with darkness.

I awoke in a glorious ballroom.  My once bare toes were now encased in lovely velvet shoes and my gown was extravagant!  Yards of burgundy material flowed with puffy white sleeves etched in thin gold ribbon. Impulsively I twirled to the music, my skirt swishing about my ankles.

"Would you care to dance?" boomed a voice.  Stepping out from the shadows was a glorious man, dressed in a flowing robe with green embroidered leaves and big floppy cuffs.   Looking into his smoky gray eyes, I knew at once who it was.  Taking his hand, he led me across the ballroom floor.  Many strangers surrounded us, smiling as we danced.

"Thank you for coming," he said.

"You make it hard for a girl to resist," I said.

Colors blurred around me, my mind fading in and out.  I wasn't sure if I were dreaming or this were real.  His strong arms held me protectively as we danced around the room.

"I have something I'd like you to see," he said.  I followed him up a winding staircase, passing by many ladies who stared at me with envy.  At the end of the hall he stopped and opened the door.  Inside was a spacious room filled with shades of blues and pink. He closed the door behind him and disrobed.  Walking closer he swept me up into his arms, twirling me around the room.

"This could all be yours," Drinyian said.

"Oh, it would be too much, I am a simple girl," I answered.

"You are mine and I will do with you as I wish," he replied.  Blushing I tried to pull away.

"You flatter me, but you are a god and I am just a plain girl with nothing to offer," I tried to explain.

His brows furrowed as he held me tight. "I brought you here because it is what your heart wanted, now it is your turn to give me what I want," he insisted.  I tried to play along, acting out my fantasy for that was all it was.  His fingers unlaced my dress and I felt relief as the heavy layers fell away.  With fury he tore away my undergarments until I was naked, my sex glistening against the soft light from the glass windows.  With little effort he carried me to the bed where yards of fabric encased us, shielding us from the rest of the world.  My body felt excited as I lay atop the satin sheets, waiting for him to undress.

"You are beautiful," he whispered as he nestled in next to my body.  Hands and fingers delved, daring to venture inside places that hadn't been explored in so very long.  I was amazed how he knew just where to touch me, and what I liked most.  Every movement brought me closer to the brink.

"That feels so good," I sighed.  Further his fingers dared to go, his mouth inching closer to my mound. Arching my back I offered myself to him, begging for him.  His tongue flickered lightly creating shivers along my smooth pale skin.  He paused a moment to watch my body writhe before lapping away hungrily at my pulsing clit.  Warmth spread across my face as the room spun, moans and sighs of sheer ecstasy escaping from my lips

"I beg you Drinyian, take me," I cried out.  It was all becoming too much!  Waves of euphoria rushed from my toes, spilling forth throughout my whole inner core, sending me closer and closer to the edge.  His hands wrapped around my back and he tossed me over with ease.  I held my ass proudly in the air, awaiting his entrance.

"Do you want me," he asked.

"Yes Drinyian, I need you inside me," I begged.

"Very well, I shall consummate our union," he said.  Before I could question his words he drove into me, filling up every inch of my inner folds.  I screamed with pleasure as he thrust inside again and again, his hands forcefully holding my hips.  I could faintly hear him muttering orders and chanting words, but I quickly became lost in the surreal moment of it all. His fingers found my clit and rubbed until I couldn't stand it, I had to release the nectar inside, the nectar for my god.  My thighs trembled as my juices flowed around his already slick shaft.  I couldn't believe such an incredible fantasy had been fulfilled.  The power of my mind was so intense the spasms continued to rock my body.  Faster he plummeted into my drenched sex, rhythmically pounding into me like an ancient tribal drum while I met him movements, ramming myself back into him.  Taking my fingers I massaged my clit until I was fully aroused, not wanting this moment to ever end.  Again I came, my body shaking uncontrollably.

"Fill me up Drinyian," I begged.  Clenching my inner muscles tightly around his cock, I felt the beginnings of his climax.

His voice bellowed like an animal as he came, driving further into me with each spewing thrust.  Quickly he laid me onto my back, caressing my face with gentle strokes.

"My lady, you have given me such intense pleasure, I thank you," he said.

"I believe it was mutual," I replied breathlessly.

"Let us dress and resume the party downstairs shall we?  The people are waiting for me to make an appearance," he said.  I stretched and snuggled in closer to his warm body.

"Can't we just lie here a little longer?"

"I'm afraid that my people have waited long enough.  I have duties my dear and cannot simply lie about all day," he said.  "Come, dress quickly." 

Once we were downstairs, the music faded and everyone gathered around.  Drinyian and I were handed goblets of wine, which he raised in the air.

"I would like to make a toast," he announced.  I held my goblet up to his.

"A toast to our engagement," he began and downed a large swig of wine.  I dropped mine, watching the blood stained color splash across the floor.

"This is only fantasy," I answered nervously, "I couldn't really be with you."

"You think I am playing a game?"  He seethed, aware of the attention I was causing.

"I cannot be your bride," I reasoned.  "This is all in my mind."

"You will silence yourself now!" he ordered.  I did not care that people were looking at me strangely.

"I am not truly in love with you, not in that way, this has all just been a fantasy," I explained.  "I cannot stay with you in your world."  He roughly pulled me from the room.

"You my dear are the one who summoned me.  You begged me to bring you into my world," he growled through clenched teeth.

"I did not mean to, not really," I said.  Had I really summoned him?  I had not meant to make him real.

"My dear, if you try to leave, only one of us will suffer," he threatened.  My stomach turned.  I still had control here, didn't I?  I wanted to run but I had nowhere to go.  How do you escape a fantasy turned real?  He was from centuries ago, not of this time; except, he brought his time into my home as I brought him to life through my sketch.  He was the unseen force guiding my hand to create such an impressive piece of art.  He used my innocence to come alive.

"Please let me go," I pleaded, fighting back tears.

"This isn't what I want."  He returned a look that reeked of pity and sarcasm.

"At what point do you realize this is the only reality you will ever know?"  The question hung in the air like an icicle, cold and sharp.   "Your life is with me or not at all," he interjected.

"Then take my life, for I wouldn't have one with you," I uttered in a whisper.

"That is your choosing," he declared and left the room.  I watched as dark shadows loomed towards me.  Hands grabbed my arms and dragged me from the ballroom.  I was taken where I was bathed and dressed, prepped like a lamb for slaughter.  Silently I was led into a stone walled room.  The block in the middle of the room was meant for me, a sacrifice for disobeying his majesty.  Drinyian sat upon his throne, grinning with wild hungry eyes.  I would still be his, a victory set in my own blood.  Thrown to the ground, my head was placed along the block.  The last I saw was a heavyset man raising a large club over his head.  I closed my eyes as I felt a sharp pain hit the side of my skull, everything fading to black.

As I passed the gold laden antique mirror, I came into a luxurious bedroom, a room I recognized.  In the corner stood the four-poster bed.  Rising from behind the velvet drapes was Drinyian himself.  I gasped.

"Ah, I have been waiting for you," he said smiling.

"You see this is the only reality you will ever know, you and I will be as one, as intended."

"I don't understand, why am I here?"

"I have you where I want you.  I told you there would be no getting away from me, you are mine and you will bring me an eternity of pleasure," he said.

Something warm and sticky ran down the side of my cheek.  Reaching up I absently brushed it away. Looking down I saw my hands covered in blood.  I ran to the mirror, cringing at my grotesque reflection.  The side of my head was bone and cartilage, bleeding heavily as streaks of blood stained my cracked neck.  My twisted fantasy had become an even more twisted reality.  I was dead, inside and out.  The reality was, even though I was dead, I still wished to die.  He walked closer to me his powerful naked body aroused and ready.

"Come my dear," Drinyian boomed.  "Come find out how delicious death can taste."




 “Mirror Image” — F. Gernier and Marcel K. Bromius



Travis had been sitting at the bar all night, steadily drinking rum-and-cokes and looking for some action.  It was several hours before dawn, well past the usual hour he normally left the club, but still nothing appealing had strolled his way. He was ready to call it a night and chalk the evening up as another boring interlude between gigs.

Until "he" walked in.

Travis stopped and stared, his glass hanging midway between the gleaming wooden bar and his mouth. His lips and tongue were suddenly dry, but the last swallow of his drink hovered in his glass forgotten, his eyes drinking in the man instead. It was like staring at himself in the mirror.

The man's clothes were different, of course.  Instead of the well-worn leather sheathing Travis' body, he was an anachronistic study of absolute black and white: black floor-length opera cape, white ruffled shirt, ebony tails and shiny leather boots. His garb offset his pale features.

As he entered the club, Travis could not help glancing between the strange apparition gliding towards the bar and the posters of his own heavy-metal rock band, "The Undead", proudly displayed on the walls all around them. In the posters, garbed in his stage array, Travis could have been this man's twin, right down to the antiquated evening wear. Perhaps the evening would not be so boring after all.

Travis rose and moved to get a better look at the man, just in time and close enough behind him to hear the man murmur something to the bartender. He could not hear the man's question, but the deep syrupy accent was unmistakable, French, mellifluous melting French which sucked away all the harsh edges of the English language.

"He hasn't arrived yet, "the bartender replied curtly, avoiding the Frenchman's eyes as he toweled the glossy dark wood of the counter.

The Frenchman didn’t seem to notice, but the bartender moved away quickly to wait on the customers at the other end of the bar and did not return.

Travis slid into the vacant space beside his strange twin, catching the Frenchman's eerily familiar eyes with his own dark gaze. "But lucky for both of us, I have,"he said.

The Frenchman smiled slightly. His oddly glittering eyes, so like Travis' own, raked down Travis' lean body. Those eyes... they almost seemed to glow, and Travis could feel them touching him. It was as if those eyes had somehow captured what little light the club offered and reformed it into an invisible hand which reached beyond the black leather armor he wore, stroking him somewhere deeper than his flesh.

"Oh, really?" Despite their dryness, the Frenchman's words did little to dispel the sudden sultry warmth filling the space between Travis and him.

"I'm Travis, and you're...?"

"Not interested," he said flatly, but his wide black eyes lingered, groping Travis and sending soft intimate tingles rushing through the singer's body. The Frenchman blinked and began to turn away.

Travis reached out to grasp his arm but stopped intuitively when his strange twin stiffened an instant before he actually touched him.

"You must at least tell me your name," Travis demanded.

The Frenchman sipped his Perrier daintily, his pale luminous hand caressing the glass, but his eyes darkened stubbornly.

A long silent moment passed between them.

Eyes level and cool, Travis stared at him and waited impassively.

"Jean-Marc," the Frenchman finally whispered.

Travis quivered with the excitement of the small victory.  There had been many men and women in his life but none so inexplicably compelling or erotically dangerous as this mysterious twin.

Holding the Frenchman's gaze, Travis said softly, "Look over there... at the poster on the wall to the right of the bar."

Their gazes remained locked, and for a moment Travis thought the Frenchman would refuse. Then Jean-Marc's eyes dropped and slid obediently to the right, but a contemptuous smile drooped across his full ashen lips

The poster Travis referred to, featured a singer who could have been Jean-Marc or Travis, a painted reflection of either of them hanging in midair, arms spread wide, surrounded by a floating band whose drumset was emblazoned with the band's logo-- "The Undead" framed in the open lid of a glossy black coffin. The singer's ruby red lips were parted slightly, the glinting tips of sharply pointed canines just visible, his open hands raised, imploring or defying, eyes dark and hungry. The image taken as a whole could have been sorrow or rage or anger or pain, but, whatever it was, it was passionate.

Jean-Marc's eyes widened slightly as he examined the poster. Travis continued, his deep voice deliberate. "You could be me up there on the stage.  I mean... we are the same... we look the same, I mean..."

Jean-Marc's expression softened as he said,” Hush, mon cher, it is only an image after all.  Neither of us really are what we appear to be."

"Mon cher."  The endearment lingered in the air.

"What do I appear to be to you?" Travis asked.

The deadly sparkle returned to Jean-Marc's black stare. "You appear to be many things to me.  Young, intense.... aroused.... “his gaze dropped pointedly to the broadening bulge straining against Travis' leather pants, "...but there... “he lifted his gaze and indicated the poster with a toss of his chin, " look like me, a vampire. Are you a vampire?"

Travis smiled. "Of course not.  Just because I play a vampire on stage doesn't mean I'm crazy enough to believe that I am one.  Vampires don't really exist.  They're just creatures of myth and fantasy."

Jean-Marc laughed ruefully and then turned his dark gaze upon Travis again. "They exist, and not just in legends and dreams, mon cher," he whispered and returned to his Perrier.

Travis forced a laugh from his lips, but Jean-Marc's words reverberated strangely in his head.  "Well, you're not a dream and neither am I.  Why don't we go back to my place?"

Jean-Marc turned to stare at Travis again, his eyes consuming the light around them, glowing blacker and blacker, concealing his form in the sudden shadows of the dimming bar.  His voice was hollow and strong when he spoke.  "I am waiting for someone.  Use your love lines on another, my pretty one, before I take you up on your offer and you learn what nightmares truly are."

Before Travis could turn his thoughts to Jean-Marc's meaning or passing, a towering shadow shouldered between them.

The shadow belonged to a giant man with silver hair who turned directly to Travis, brooding blue eyes, hard and possessive.  "It's time to go, Jean-Marc," he growled.

Jean-Marc chuckled from the shadow behind the giant.  "My great brute, you are deceived.  That is my friend Travis, while I am Jean-Marc."

The giant whirled, the buzzed top of his silver mane ruffling in the wake of his sudden movement.  His face was naturally cruel and tight, but anger knitted an even darker tapestry on his handsome features.  His wintry blue gaze darted from Jean-Marc to Travis then back to Jean-Marc.  The Frenchman chuckled wryly again, and the giant frowned and stiffened.

"Do not laugh at me, Jean-Marc, I warn you.  I said it is time to go."

The soft laughter disappeared instantly, and Jean-Marc's eyes burned. "I do what I like, mon bete.  Do not attempt to threaten me."  Jean-Marc seemed suddenly the taller of the two.  "Go if you want, I choose to stay here with my so good friend Travis."  He punctuated his intention by raking Travis possessively with his dark eyes.

A hot flush rushed through Travis' flesh.

Ignoring Travis completely, the giant sneered,” You need me."

"Not tonight."

Jean-Marc spun on his heels, turning his back to the giant and picked up his glass.  The silver-haired giant trembled, fists clenched, lips tightening as he strafed Jean-Marc's back with a measuring look.  He looked as though he might pick the Frenchman up bodily and carry him from the club.

Travis' blood raced faster and his lithe body tensed, ready to intervene if the confrontation got physical, but, abruptly, the giant turned and stalked out of the club.  Before he vanished though, he turned and shot a parting glance directly into Travis' eyes, a cold blue look that promised a future reckoning.

Jean-Marc's soft voice reclaimed Travis' attention.  "Claud thinks he controls me sometimes.  He becomes, oh so boring, lately with his jealous possessiveness.  You wouldn't be like that would you, mon petit?"

Travis did not answer the question.  "Now we can go to my place.  I know what you want."

After measuring Travis' leather clad body with a look that made the singer feel as though his pants had suddenly shrunken two sizes, Jean-Marc replied, ”No, it would be a mistake, I think."

The words struck Travis like a slap, but he was not ready to give up. He reached into his leather vest and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He felt Jean-Marc's eyes following the motion of his fingers as he tapped a Marlboro from the pack.  "Afraid Claud would disapprove?”  He jeered as he lit the cigarette.

"No," Jean-Marc said gently, reaching out to remove the cigarette from its resting place between Travis' lips.  "I fear for you."  Holding Travis' eyes with his own, he turned the cigarette deftly between his fingers, pursed his sensuous lips around the filter, and took a long deep drag.  The tip of the cigarette flared bright and hot, but, Jean-Marc's gaze burned hotter.  Travis felt his body ignite beneath the stare, as though Jean-Marc had bridged the space between them and brushed his hardening nipples with long slender fingers or softly stroked the taut layer of leather restraining his sex.

Then Jean-Marc turned away from him and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on the bar; the Frenchman's gaze locked onto the colored bottles lined against the wall behind the bar and remained there.

Travis' eyes, as dark as Jean-Marc's own, narrowed dangerously.  He was not accustomed to being dismissed so casually.  He stared at his twin's profile, hungrily, then stretched out one hand.  Two long slender fingers curled firmly around the Frenchman's jaw and slowly turned Jean-Marc to face him.  Travis wanted to look into Jean-Marc's eyes once more.

The Frenchman's features were as smooth as stone.  He sat, unblinking and cool.

Travis did not relent.  "I will take care of both of us," the singer promised solemnly.

Jean-Marc said nothing, searching Travis' face.  He smiled, releasing the captive glow from his eyes and returning it to the club.  The whole room seemed to brighten.

Jean-Marc took Travis' hand and raised the singer's wrist to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the tender underside.  The touch was cool, dry and very exciting.  "Perhaps you will, “he breathed softly, "Alors, let it be on your neck then."

Travis slid his hand down Jean-Marc's arm and steered him possessively out of the club.



Travis' apartment was dark and cold.  As they entered, Travis switched on the lights.  His home was a veritable shrine to vampires.  All the available wall space was covered by posters; theatre billings of vampire films alternated with promo posters for ”The Undead".  Heavy Victorian antiques covered almost every foot of the black and burgundy oriental carpets.

Jean-Marc stood in the doorway, absent-mindedly handing Travis his cloak as his dark eyes took in the room and widened slightly.  He entered the room slowly, circled it, stared at each poster as he passed, and finally stopped at a large dark-stained bookshelf.  Books of every size and age and shape were jammed into it, some hardbound, others softbacks. Novels, short stories, fiction, history texts, biographies, they all shared a single common trait-- each and every one was about vampires. Jean-Marc ran his fingertips over them gently, a thin tiny smile on his lips, stopping to linger on some of the titles.

"Quite a collection, mon petit.  And your bedroom is... where?"

"This way."

Jean-Marc followed Travis down the short hallway which led to the bedroom.

Travis stopped at the threshold, turned, and pressed one hand firmly against the white lace running down the Frenchman's lean chest.  "It's better by candlelight."

Jean-Marc half-smiled.

Travis left him for a moment then returned and led Jean-Marc into the bedroom.

"There always is," Jean-Marc quipped and followed Travis into the room.

The candles shimmered and danced, reflected and amplified by a series of mirrored panels lining the black walls behind the bed.  Covering the rest of the room's black wall space were erotic prints of vampires caught in the dual acts of feeding and coitus as they shuddered in the wash from the jumping flames.   A round king-sized water bed with black silk sheets dominated the room, the glow of the candles casting strange shadows on the golden dragons etched into its ebony frame.  Cold black and white tile covered the floor.

"Well... what do you think?"

"The room has possibilities pour certainment," Jean-Marc said archly, his gaze settling meaningfully on the bed.  He walked across the tiled floor, his boot steps silent, and sat on the edge of the bed, testing its buoyancy with a light bounce.

Travis crossed the short space between them quickly, joining the Frenchman on the bed, sitting with his back to the mirrored wall. Travis' eyes devoured Jean-Marc, his hand steady and sure as he reached out to trace the line of the Frenchman's jaw.

At first, Jean-Marc tossed his head and drew back slightly, but Travis' fingers were insistent and finally he held still as the leather-clad singer explored the smooth planes and soft hollows of his face. Jean-Marc's eyes closed, but his hands moved slowly up to his lace collar and began to unbutton his own shirt.

Travis' hands covered Jean-Marc's and closed over them firmly, pulling them away from the pearly buttons and placing them at his sides. Jean-Marc's eyes opened, one dark brow rising, but he didn’t resist when Travis' hands resumed the task the Frenchman had begun. Jean-Marc's chest and shoulders, revealed as Travis pushed the frilled shirt and black waistcoat away, were sinewy and well-defined; his pale nipples nestled in a thin layer of silky black chest hair.

Travis had not realized he was staring until his reverie was disturbed by the feather-light touch of Jean-Marc's fingertips brushing against his throat and hooking into the collar of his leather muscle shirt.  He blinked as Jean-Marc ripped the shirt from his body, splitting it from collar to hem with casual ease. Before Travis could be outraged one of his favorite shirts had been destroyed, Jean-Marc deftly moved his soft cool lips against the base of Travis' throat and began to caress him with teeth and tongue.

Travis trembled at his touch, delicious waves of desire flowing through his entire body.

Jean-Marc worked his way down Travis' throat to his chest, as he grabbed a taut nipple between his teeth and nibbled.  Travis leaned back on his arms, allowing Jean-Marc full access to his body.  Jean-Marc continued his downward path, tracing Travis' ribs and abdomen before moving to his lap.

Jean-Marc tore the button from Travis' waistband, caught the zipper skillfully between his teeth, and pulled it down in one smooth motion. His tongue wet, his lips descended onto Travis' engorged and throbbing cock, holding his shaft deep in his mouth, he slid off, and swallowed him again.

Travis groaned, and his back arched, thrusting himself further into Jean-Marc's mouth. His fingers wound into Jean-Marc's dark silky hair. "Stop,"he moaned breathlessly, ”Too fast... I want this to last."

Amused, Jean-Marc slid off Travis' swollen cock and chuckled.  "Have no fear, mon enfant," he murmured, nuzzling the soft skin of Travis' cockhead with his cheek, “I am no novice in these arts."

His tongue swirled against Travis' slit, the moist tip pushing and pulling away in a fucking motion which left Travis' brain spinning hungrily, before Jean-Marc took Travis' thick shaft all the way down his throat.  Jean-Marc moved as he inhaled him, maneuvering so he knelt on the floor between Travis' legs, bobbing expertly on his cock and driving Travis mad.  Travis felt his balls fill, his body stiffen, and the cum start to rise through him.  He knew he could not hold on much longer when Jean-Marc stopped abruptly and raised his head.

Balanced on his knees, Jean-Marc lifted one of Travis boots against his bare chest, kissed the toe, and then reverently drew it off.  He repeated this ritual with the other.  "Stand," he said softly.

Travis rose, legs shaking, cock rigid and erect, glistening with Jean-Marc's saliva and dripping precum.

Jean-Marc placed his slender hands on Travis hips and slowly drew his pants down his legs until they were a pile of leather at his ankles. Travis stepped out of them.  The tile was cold against Travis' bare feet, but the heat of Jean-Marc's dark predatory gaze warmed him. Jean-Marc leaned forward into Travis' groin, sucking on the singer's heavy balls while he pumped his cock with one pale hand.

Breathless and swallowing hard, Travis pushed Jean-Marc away gently, hooking one finger under the Frenchman's jaw and pulling him to his feet.  With one lifted eyebrow, Jean-Marc questioned the interruption of his art, but he said nothing, waiting for Travis.

Travis made Jean-Marc wait, while he enjoyed the Frenchman's passive patience, but it was not enough.  Jean-Marc's lips were still crooked slightly, a maddening hint of amusement and arrogance coiled in their pale thinness that was driving Travis crazy.  Travis wanted to vanquish the superiority, wanted to rob Jean-Marc of his perfect composure and aristocratic poise, wanted to hear him cry out in abandoned passion, wanted to see his suave twin as hungry for Travis as Travis was for him.

Moving closer to Jean-Marc, Travis placed one hand on each side of the Frenchman's handsome face and leaned slowly forward to first brush and then pressed his lips to the Frenchman's pouting mouth.  Jean-Marc drew away again, almost as if in distaste, but Travis did not release him. Instead he pulled the Frenchman back and began again, softly, delicately, until the Frenchman submitted to his lips and then to his tongue.

Their kisses deepened and Jean-Marc began to respond, pressing his body harder against Travis.  They tasted each other's mouths, teeth, and tongues.  Jean-Marc's hands slipped around Travis' torso and clutched at his back, while he groaned, and urged Travis on hungrily.

Travis' hands dropped to Jean-Marc's waist, undoing his pants and freeing the Frenchman's uncut manhood.  Still kissing the Frenchman passionately, Travis grasped Jean-Marc's flaccid cock and began to awaken it; stroking and kneading its smooth pale length, feeling it stiffen and swell beneath his touch.

Travis broke their kiss long enough to wet the palm of his hand and reapply it to Jean-Marc's hardening erection.  Jean-Marc groaned again, one arm encircling Travis' throat while the other worked its way down Travis' body until it dropped to the singer's throbbing cock and grasped it in a tight fist.  It was Travis' turn to gasp and shudder.

Travis' lips slid from Jean-Marc's mouth to his ear, tracing its fine delicate curves and hollows with the warm moist tip of his tongue, sucking and biting on the downy lobe.

Jean-Marc threw his head back and cried out, his manhood hardening to a burgeoning erection while Travis' other hand grabbed a handful of Jean-Marc's tight buttocks, clutching and releasing the Frenchman's round muscular ass.   Crying out, Jean-Marc's body quivered, and he began rocking between Travis' hands, with his head thrown back, he thrust into Travis' hand with his cock, and wiggled his ass towards
Travis' other hand.

Breathing hard, his own cock driving him hungrily forward, Travis abandoned Jean-Marc's ear for his throat, seeking the pulsing beat of life at the place where his neck and shoulder joined.  He felt the artery... but nothing else, no thudding, hammering, wildly, racing heartbeat to match his own.  Nothing.  Startled, he pulled away from Jean-marc's throat to look at his lover.

Jean-Marc's back was arched, head thrown back, face lined in ecstasy, eyes closed, and mouth open slightly.  Travis eyes widened.  Before his eyes, he saw Jean-Marc's canines, already moist and glistening, impossibly elongate, gleaming, suddenly sharp and wicked in the candlelight, reminding Travis of his wishful fantasy.

"Be careful what you wish for..."

Jean-Marc's head tilted forward slowly, dark eyes opening and locking onto Travis.  "Why do you stop, mon cher?  We have only just begun." Jean-Marc smiled as he spoke but not the alluring magnetic smile that had warmed Travis earlier.  This smile was feral, repelling, revealing Jean-Marc's ivory white fangs in all their magnificent reality.  Travis could not tear his eyes away from those fangs, paralyzed and fascinated, frightened and exhilarated.

Jean-Marc's dark eyes glowed, and the superior smile returned to his lips as he placed his hands on Travis' shoulders and began forcing the singer downward.  Travis struggled internally to resist Jean-Marc's will as the power flowed between them.  He suddenly dropped to his knees snatching a switchblade from his discarded leather pants and popped the blade into place.

Jean-Marc raised an eyebrow and continued to smile; not sure what was happening.  Travis placed one razor-edge and drew it slowly against his wrist, careful to avoid the artery, and rose extending his arm out to Jean-Marc.  Jean-Marc's eyes widened and darkened.

Dark, red, blood welled up from the wound and began to run down Travis' arm, but before a drop of blood struck the floor, Jean-Marc had dropped to his own knees beside Travis, licking at the tiny red rivulets that threatened to stain the black and white tile.  He pulled Travis' bleeding wrist to his lips.  Travis shuddered and swayed as a wave of pleasure ripped through him, but Jean-Marc had a practiced grip on the singer, supporting him while he sucked greedily at the wound.

Jean-Marc's cock strained upwards, straight and hard, throbbing and quivering like a leashed hound anxious for the chase.

Travis smiled, running a hand through Jean-Marc's soft, silky, hair as the vampire suckled at his wrist.  It felt so good, but Travis tried to maintain control of himself.  He couldn’t afford to surrender to the pleasure; this was his chance, and a heady thrill of power coursed through him as he watched the vampire kneeling before him.

Who was the master now?

Jean-Marc drank hungrily, groaning and growling; his hips thrust into the air, his cock jerked and oozed copious amounts of precum.  Travis felt his own orgasm fast approaching, too.

With a hard resolute shove, Travis pushed Jean-Marc away from his wrist before the pleasure overwhelmed them both.  It was not easy.  Travis wanted desperately to see Jean-Marc out of control and spurting his cum, but it was not enough.

Jean-Marc snarled like an animal deprived of its kill.

Travis was breathing heavily but managed to tighten his jaw and say in a reasonably steady voice, ”There are many kinds of pleasure, and we will try them all... when I want them."

Travis reached across the bed and picked up Jean-Marc's lacey shirt, taking it in both hands, he tore a linen strip from it, and bound his wrist as Jean-Marc watched.

The vampire was strangely quiet as he watched the singer.

Travis rose to his feet, closed his eyes until the vertigo cleared, then pulled Jean-Marc onto bed with him.  Jean-Marc smiled crookedly, but he did not resist when Travis pinned him to the satin sheets and began kissing him once more.

Jean-Marc's breath was hot in Travis' ear as Travis spread the Frenchman's legs, muttering soft encouragements and entreaties.  Travis' hand stroked Jean-Marc's engorged dick with one hand even as he raised Jean-Marc's hips and positioned the head of his cock against the wrinkled folds of the Frenchman's asshole.

Travis thrust into him.  Jean-Marc's cock jumped in Travis' hand and his lips parted to cry out, gasp and pant.  Travis lowered his body onto the vampire's cool muscled body, pumping into him strongly and steadily.  Jean-Marc's dark eyes, glazed, then closed.

Travis smiled mockingly, and leaned deeper into Jean-Marc, bringing his throat closer to the vampire's open mouth then stretching it to one side, baring the taut flesh.  "Now, my twin, tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

Jean-Marc opened his eyes, licked his lips, and then thrust his naked fangs towards the proffered throat.  Travis pulled away.

"Unh uh," Travis taunted huskily, ”Not until you tell me how much you want me."

Jean-Marc stared at Travis, eyes too unfocussed to try and command him, hungry and trembling beneath Travis' thrusting body.  The amusement and arrogance had vanished.  Jean-Marc begged softly,”Please, Travis, I want you to fuck me.  I want you inside me.  Please, I want to feed...please."

Travis smiled, enjoying the moment, then lowered his neck to Jean-Marc's waiting fangs and whispered, “Come... “while he plunged hard and deep into Jean-Marc's willing body.




Later, as they both lay side-by-side on a bear-skin cover Travis had thrown down, spent and tired,  Travis remarked,  "I had no idea vampires could cum.  They certainly don't show that in the movies!"

"Why not?  Where there is desire, there is culmination."  Jean-Marc responded.  "How does the saying go?  Allow me to master you and I will be your slave, non?"

"Yes, “Travis breathed dreamily, one arm wrapped protectively around Jean-Marc.

"We are so alike, and yet so different.  Mirror images.  Death and life, but in passion we are equal.  Reversed, yet identical.  But life is the grand mystery, and we are the players, non? “Jean-Marc curled closer to Travis chest, listening to his strong even heartbeat.  He turned to look up at Travis, his expression turning suddenly serious.  "I could change you... make you as I am," he said softly.

"No," Travis said firmly.  "I mean... not yet.  Let me get used to living with a dream before I become one."

Jean-Marc's lips pressed into a playful pout,” You can't live with the dead."

"You didn't feel so dead a few minutes ago," Travis smiled.

Jean-Marc answered his smile with one of his own, one of the bright charming ones that Travis had begun to adore.  "I admire humans."  His hand reached across Travis' body and slowly began to caress Travis again.  "They are achievers, doers, artists.  Most vampires do little more than feed off humanity."

"And you?"

"I am the same," Jean-Marc sighed, shaking his black locks so that they hid his eyes.

Travis stared at Jean-Marc as he lay beside him, running a hand down his cheek, "Now that I have found you, I don't think I can let Claud have you back."

Jean-Marc's questioning brow vaulted over lips that pouted, oh so sweetly.

"I will take care of you, Jean-Marc," Travis vowed again, "But now, my shadow twin, it is your turn to take care of me."

Jean-Marc smiled and laughed darkly, bowing his head, pressing his lips to Travis' pulse and awakening Travis' blood.




The next night, Travis was at the club again, sitting alone at the bar, waiting.  The bar was busy for a Thursday night, the air heavy with the smells of leather, male sweat, and lust.  Hungry eyes cruised Travis repeatedly, but there was a darkness in his expression which went beyond leather posturing and warned them away, all except Claud.  He strode directly over to Travis.

"You've had your fun, now where is he?"  The silver-headed giant demanded.

"At my place."  Travis replied calmly and lifted a glass of Perrier to his lips.

Claud snorted.  "Fool!  Do you think that you can, keep a vampire?"  He growled, his voice low but rumbling deeply. "You are just a foolish human."

Travis shrugged.  He didn’t intend to surrender his twin to Claud or anyone else.

"How will you feed him?  Off your blood?  He will drain you in a matter of days."

Travis smiled a knowing smile and stared directly into Claud's blue eyes.

"Only another vampire can master one such as he."

Travis said nothing and took another sip from his glass.

"What?  You don't believe me?  He is merely angry at me for keeping him waiting.  This is just another one of his games.  He will grow tired of you and return to me.  It is inevitable.  Only I know how to truly satisfy him."

"He has put himself in my hands, and I have promised to take care of him.  I will see to his needs," Travis said evenly, his gaze steady and unrelenting, "All of his needs."

Claud snorted again.  "You will learn soon enough."  He reached into his wallet and drew out a card.  Writing quickly, he handed it to Travis. "Give him this.  It is where he can find me when he decides to return."

Travis took the card, glanced at it, nodded, and then looked up at Claud. "No problem, but don't wait up."

Claud grinned, the light glinting off his long sharp canines.  "I will be waiting, human.  And when he does return, if you're not already dead, I'll come looking for you."  Their eyes met again, locked and held. Finally, Claud "hmmphed" and stalked away.

Travis smiled, took another sip of his Perrier, picked up the gym bag nestled at his feet, slid away from the bar and followed Claud.




Jean-Marc greeted Travis at the door of the apartment.

Travis smiled and pulled one of several large thermoses from the black gym bag.

"Qu'est-que c'est?  What is this?"  Jean-Marc asked, taking the container.

"Dinner á la carte," Travis said softly.

"What is it?"

"Open it.  Drink," Travis urged.

Jean-Marc smiled charmingly.  He sat down on one of the heavy wing-backed chairs in the living room and gestured for Travis to sit across from him.  Travis grinned but he didn't sit.  Jean-Marc opened the container and sniffed at the contents, arching one eyebrow at the aroma.  Reverently, he tipped the red liquid to his lips and took a long slow swallow, eyes closing as he savored the thick richness before lowering the thermos and setting it on the end table beside him.

"I can't drink much of this.  Vampire blood is potent.  It will last for some time.  How did you come by this?"

Travis moved behind the chair in which the vampire sat, his fingers curling over Jean-Marc's shoulders and neck, rubbing them gently.  "It's bad luck to question providence."

Jean-Marc swiveled in the chair to stare at Travis, eyes dark, saying nothing.  Travis' fingers stopped moving, and, for a moment, they stood that way, silent, frozen, staring.  Then, Jean-Marc turned back around and arched his shoulders into Travis' touch.

Travis resumed the massage.

"You are a dangerous man, Travis," he said finally.

"I know."

After another long silence, Jean-Marc continued, waving a hand at the thermos on the end table.  "It is Claud's blood of course... someday you will have to tell me how you obtained it.  The story should be fascinating, non?"


Travis sighed.  The blood would not last forever.  He would have to get more.  The band was scheduled to go on tour soon and it would help, he knew.  It would make whatever he had to do harder to discover, but he didn't mind; the prize was worth it.  Jean-Marc was his now and he would not let him go.

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Master's Ecstasy
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Sweet Rapture
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