A vampire shows off his toy for a club.
1k, cis M/trans M. A vampire fucks his trans boyfriend in a crowded nightclub as people dance below them.
Featuring some chem sex with the drugging effects of a vampire belt, public sex, fingering and vaginal sex, overstimulation, and implications of a fevered gangbang in the aftermath.
It’s busy in the bar, and Lars has Laurence leaning back against his chest, his legs spread wide, Lars’ lips against the side of his neck. Laurence’s eyes have been closed for some time, not wanting to sit with the flash and burst of the club lights in them, the constant rotation of the disco lights — the music pounds through them both, and Laurence can feel it through his rib cage, feel it through Lars’.
Lars’ body behind his, under his, is strong and heavy and slightly cool, one of his hands spread over Laurence’s naked chest, his fingertips against his pecs, against the flat surface of his sternum.
The other is between his legs.
Laurence can feel his heart pounding, feel the sheen of wet sweat on his skin — his clothes are thrown over one of the chairs, and where they are on the raised platform, he knows that people are looking up at them as they dance while they’re dancing.
Lars’ fingers are buried in him, two of them crooked into Laurence’s cunt and his thumb flicking over his hard cock again and again. Lars is doing it, is radiating that vampire glamour he has, the sort of aura of heat and want and need and hunger, like he’s put his own need and lust for blood and concentrated it to radiate it outward, to make it contagious.
Laurence wants his cock, craves it, and at the same time feels like he’s on the edge of something sublime like this, spread wide and open and on display with Lars’ hard cock against his arse, slowly rocking his hips up and into him.
He keeps tonguing over Laurence’s skin and nipping at him, mouthing at him, sucking little bruises into the flesh of his neck, and it’s making heat prickle and tingle outward from that spot. He feels like his blood is being heated from within, feels like it could well boil and bubble out of him, like red steam could rise out of him in a cloud.
Lars bites down, and Laurence moans so loudly that people’s heads turn to look at them, audible above the music and the pounding beat of the drums, but he doesn’t stop to meet any of their gazes, to enjoy the weight of their stares or invite more of them, to show off how pleased he is to be displayed like this, like a trophy.
There’s no shame as the vampiric venom courses through his veins, as his whole body thrills like there’s a current running through it — he feels like he’s being drenched in hot water, his cunt clenching and his cock twitching, so soaked it feels as if he’s dripping with it. He’s letting out greedy, eager noises as he rocks himself down onto Lars’ fingers and feels the grip of his hand, keening, whining.
The venom is sinking over him in a thick, foggy haze, everything suddenly seeming to move slow and a little bit funny — the music washes over him, makes him feel as though he’s swimming in it, and when he opens his eyes to properly look at the other people in the club, at the club itself, he finds he can’t see anything but the blur of moving lights and swaying masses of dancing bodies.
Lars lifts him up with one arm banded around his middle as if Laurence weighs absolutely nothing, as if he’s no more substantial than a toy to play with, and then Laurence is being sunk down on the thick weight of Lars’ cock and feeling it pierce him open. He must be moaning, might even be screaming, but whatever noise ekes out of him blends in with the blur of life that everything else has become, the sea of pleasure he’s happily drowning in.
Lars says, “Good boy,” in his ear, and those two words are the only ones that matter, the only ones that have ever mattered and will ever matter, his cunt clenching desperately around him, his cock throbbing and his body arching. Lars’ hand comes to play with his cock again, pulling and tugging on it, jerking it between his thumb and two fingers, and Laurence howls at the electric pleasure of it, the lightning-strike pulse of each stroke through his body. His hips are jerking uncontrollably, his cock twitching in rhythm with the beats of his frantic heart, and he feels light-headed and dizzy, like he isn’t breathing. Maybe he isn’t — he wouldn’t know.
Lars’ tongue swipes through the blood on his neck and then he goes back to sucking at him — Laurence’s orgasm crashes over him in such a wave that it’s all-encompassing, the thing running through the whole of his body, his toes curling, his back arching in a perfect arc, his body so hot and burning he could well be red steam right now.
“When I’m done,” Lars whispers, and somehow Laurence can hear him even though the room is a crowded roar, even though he’s deaf to everything but the music and his blood pounding in his ears and his own animal whines, “I’m going to toss you over that railing.”
It’s only eight or ten feet down — it won’t even hurt him, so long as they catch him, and they will catch him. Laurence knows they’re hungry for him, for each other, for Lars, for everything, for everybody.
Everyone in the room could be sober as anything, could never even have touched a drop of alcohol, and with Lars’ influence they would be lovedrunk the moment they crossed the threshold, and they are now.
“They’ll tear me apart,” Laurence says. He’s slurring his words, his head lolling.
“They’ll fuck you to pieces,” Lars agrees, and grips him tighter around the middle, bounces him faster, harder, and Laurence yowls at the feeling of being split so wonderfully open, at feeling Lars’ cock inside him. “And you’ll thank me for every moment.”
Laurence comes apart, and he’s aware of the deep, throaty sound of Lars’ laughter in his ears as he does.
Leave a Reply