Teaser: Runner Owen 90s au smut
“What's your name?” He whispered in my ear, his hand rubbing along the seam between my legs.
“You already know that,” I said. “You said it earlier.”
“Say it,” he said.
“David,” I said.
He slapped my cunt, light, teasing, warning. I dug at the brick behind me, my clit throbbing.
“Owen,” I relented.
“You shouldn't be here, stray,” he said. His lips brushed my chin, I tilted my head and closed my eyes. “Easier ways to find a master than this.”
“Who are you?” I said. My eyes opened a crack. “Not one of those blood farmers, are you?”
“Now how does a little human boy like you know about that?” He said. The flat of his palm pressed against my clit. I swallowed the noise that tried to slip free. “Suppose I already know the answer to that. We’ve heard there was a feral roaming our city. You certainly act the part.”
I almost smiled, nervous though I was. Being drained does things to humans - euphoria, arousal, both - but it didn't blunt the truth enough to erase it. My gaze took in the scars on his face, the blonde hair falling into his scarlet eyes. My thighs parted an inch.
The scarred man smiled.
“No, I'm no farmer, dear feral,” he said, and leaned in. “I'm worse.”
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I was thinking about vampire fangs (as is usually the case) and I thought about how difficult it would be for a vampire to suck cock. Surely the fangs would get in the way, or scrape along it uncomfortably? Would a vampire have to find other ways of giving oral without taking the cock into his mouth? Maybe he’d have to put more focus on kissing or licking it rather than trying to take it into his mouth.
But then what if you had a vampire boyfriend that loved to give oral while you transitioned? At first he eats you out, perhaps after helping you with your shot or after massaging the gel into your skin. It starts as a reward for you both - every time you get that little bit further in your transition, he reminds you how much pleasure your body is capable of. Every time he sucked you off, he’d be able to feel how much bigger your tcock is getting, not only how much longer it’s growing but how it’s getting thicker too, meaning he has to be that much more careful with his fangs as time goes on. Maybe he has a ritual - sinking his fangs into your thigh, feeding off of your blood, letting it drip down your thigh and once he has a good mouthful of blood, he starts to suck your tcock again, coating it in your own precious blood. He goes back and forth between feeding and sucking, making you look at how handsome your cock is, so hard and glistening with blood.
If you got bottom surgery, he can hardly wait for the first night he gets to suck you off again. It’s been agony waiting until everything healed, but he knows it’ll be more than worth the wait in the end for the both of you. His eyes widen the first time he sees your cock, enraptured by how good you look, and how much more confident you are now. He can barely hold himself back as he goes down, eager to do his usual ritual. As always, he drinks the blood from your thigh as he strokes your cock, using his hand to explore and test what areas are more sensitive and what feels good to you, listening intently to your deep groans as he swallows mouthfuls of blood. With a lick of the bite mark on your thigh, he moves to suck your cock, but his attempts now are futile - your cock big enough now that his fangs finally get in the way. You can see the desperation and hunger in his face as he desperately licks and suckles the head of your cock, wanting it so desperately in his mouth, but unable to get his fangs around it. His tongue leaves trails of blood as he licks along the length of your shaft, kissing the ridge of your glans, swirling his tongue around the head. He does everything he can think to get you off, covering your cock in blood like he always does even as he struggles to get it in his mouth.
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Scene from current WIP, dark themes ahead, it's a gothic novel so, yeah. Lemme know what you think:
The vampires too, did worship our Goddess. Goddess of suffering, goddess of humanity, grandmother of vampires. The massive image turned my stomach. The goddess in her coffin, her face troubled even in death, surrounded by her monstrous children. fangs and wings and claws and tearstained faces- a mockery. A curse. A cruel deviation of the truth. And I had nothing to defend her honor from this ancient depravity and stain on her face.
But I did.
My hand curled around the key again.
A colder hand wrapped around my wrist.
My stomach dropped.
He laughed. his breath chilled my neck.
"You wouldn't destroy such a beautiful thing, would you, Runner?" The Scarred Man whispered.
His hand brushed against the inside of my coat. It was not fear I shivered with.
"Would you destroy it as you so eagerly destroy yourself?" He whispered.
I slammed the heel of my foot on the top of his boot. The Scarred Man shoved me away, and laughed, gripping the dark blonde hair on his head with one clawed hand.
"That!" He cried. "How I've missed it, Runner!" His bright red eyes burned, fangs flashing, the light deepening the claw mark scars of his face. "How I've missed you, feral boy. It's been far too long."
Away from him I stepped, backing closer towards the hideous thing on the wall. I should have brought a blade. I pulled the key from my pocket instead. The smile grew on the Scarred Man’s face.
“You dare show your claws to me?” He said, and in his voice, only joy. “You would repel me with nothing but a tool that is not even your own?”
“I’ve faced you with lesser,” I said. “And I won every time.”
“This is not about winning, Runner,” the Scarred Man said. “I have already won. In your arrogance, you try to delay what has already come to pass.”
“You call me arrogant?” I raised my eyebrows.
He looked at me with fondness, as if I were a mere child.
“You haven’t noticed, have you?”
My stomach dropped. I reached into my jacket, and there was nothing within its pocket. He raised one hand, and with it, the journal.
“It is easy to scramble your thoughts,” the Scarred Man said. “Mortal you were born, mortal you will always be. We know - and I most of all - how to control your kind.”
I grit my teeth. A few drops of sweat inched down the back of my neck.
“As the Goddess threw off her chains,” I said, “I would throw off any you dared to put on me.”
“Would I chain you?” He said. “Would I need to chain you?”
I looked at the book in his hand. I blinked. He stood a breath away from me now. He cupped my face with his pale hand.
“I don’t think I would,” he said. “Not once you understand.”
I swung the key towards his neck. He pulled away, tossed the journal to his other hand, and caught my wrist before it could meet his flesh.
“Your defiance delights me, however,” he said. “It reminds me of her.”
I paused. The sweat formed at my temple, despite the chill in the air. He smiled at me, and somehow, it was kind.
“I suppose,” he said, “being compared to the Goddess is a compliment you do not wish to take.”
I searched his face.
“I do not believe you are the god of evil,” I said.
“And when you do,” he said, “you will be mine.”
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