fanfiction favorites archive

The sun finally slid beneath the horizon. I sighed in resignation and pushed up the lid of my coffin. Nathaniel was sitting on a kitchen chair with his hands folded in his lap. He looked so innocent like that, but I knew differently. Until recently he had been a prostitute and starred in pornographic films; neither profession encouraged innocence, but both benefited from the appearance of innocence. I also knew he regretted the loss of the outlets those professions had provided him. We had not discussed any of this, it had all leaked into my head from his. He loved Anita and was trying to be what she wanted, but I knew what it cost him.

When the object of his affection had awoken, she had been less than grateful. She had cursed his name and called him a bastard, among other things. She had threatened to kill him repeatedly. Of course, her reaction had hardly surprised him, but the remarks had wounded him, even though his expression did not show it.

She loved Jean-Claude without a doubt. One kiss with Richard couldn’t change that, no matter how earthshaking. What was it that she’d told Ronnie, back then? All the roses in the world wouldn’t make up for Richard, and all the hikes in the world wouldn’t be worth sacrificing Jean-Claude. Something like that. It was still mutually exclusive.

Hands settled on his shoulder, and then down the front of his shirt, deftly undoing buttons and revealing hot, smooth skin, nipples erect and sensitive from cold. The barest caress of Jean-Claude’s lips against the curve of his neck drew an unwilling sound of pleasure despite his best efforts to remain silent. His heart pounded so hard he felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe, and he could feel those soft lips curve into a smile against the pulse of his throat.

And it's never good for Boyfriend B to come crawling to the Boyfriend A for comfort once Boyfriend B has rejected the woman of his own free will. Richard is a man of mystery, truly. He, in his own way, represents the degeneration of these modern times. That monsters with morals simply cannot be.

"Come, mon ami," he coaxed, voice sliding over his skin like kisses. A groan pulled off his lips and Asher began buttoning his shirt. Jean-Claude laughed and looked over him, his eyes burning with a darkness that promised cool sheets and hot kisses.

“Come,” Asher purred, voice almost pleading in the gentle dark of the room, broken only by a dim lamp on the desk. Richard shed his shirt with his next step putting him bare inches from the bed and there from the body of his lover.

The shiver that runs through him is worth the stars in the sky. He turns to me slowly, those lush dark curls falling around his shoulders and his blue eyes gleaming like a child on Christmas. This is one present he can most assuredly unwrap.

“I know,” he smiled gently as he stroked a nail over the man’s bronzed nipple, lapping eagerly at the other as his blonde hair fell around them both, teasing and tickling over Richard’s body. He let hard fangs graze the man’s skin, not cutting but with enough pressure that their presence was known. Richard gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath before crying out and coming. Asher could feel the warmth of his release even through the layers of clothing over his leg and it amused him greatly.

It did not occur to Jean-Claude that the kiss had stopped nor did he seem to realize that Asher was no longer behind him cradling his body. The younger vampire was too caught up in the sensation of the kiss’ power to notice. Afterwards, the pretty vampire collapsed bonelessly against his bonds, a slight smile on his lips.

A part of me wonders if I’m master enough for him, but Damian responds well to my authority. If I command or directly ask something of him, he will do his best to do it, which is kind of why I try not to ask things of him. He’s worse than Nathaniel about having his own free will. I don’t want him to ask me how high if I say jump, I’d rather him tell me to jump off a cliff.

His face lit up and I knew I was doomed to something that would add fleshy pillows to my waistline. I would need to run longer with Micah tomorrow morning if I had any hopes of getting rid of them. I saw him whip open the menu again and scroll through it with an almost gleeful expression.

The pads of her fingers soothed the marks her nails had traced into his skin and he sighed, loving the soft strokes of her fingers. Nathaniel settled his head further into her lap, as much as he could with the baby pressing her tummy out, and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of her, and his leopard purred. Home… pard… contented, he closed his eyes and listened.

“I’m sorry, je suis desole. Forgive me?” Byron knelt by Jean-Claude, leaned against his legs, wrapped his arms around them, and laid his head against his thighs. Soft brown curls spilled down covering his face. “I was jealous, I’m sorry.” He felt a touch against his head; a hand stroked his hair, fingers slid through it, caressing his silky curls. He sighed and savored the closeness.

"I don't believe you miss us nearly enough. I for one can't believe I've managed to go for this long without the touch of your skin. I miss the smell of you, the taste of your skin under my mouth."

Jean-Claude stopped the angry words as he realized who he was complaining to. Asher had been denied his own needs for so long. Jean-Claude forced himself to regain control before the guilt could be seen on his face. The mask of a statue descended upon him and he said, "I apologize. I am in no position to complain." He could not meet Asher's eyes.

I craved Asher's touch like we were old lovers long denied. That was partially true. Jean-Claude and Asher were old lovers, and I retained enough of Jean-Claude's memories of Asher to feel like I'd known him intimately myself.

I tried to find a reason this was wrong, but they all seemed to crumble away. I wanted Jason and Jason wanted me. Jean-Claude whispers made it sound like we would be giving him a gift, sharing this with him. Maybe I wasn't in love with Jason, but I certainly loved him as far more than a friend.

I pushed myself away from him so quickly that I nearly cracked my head against the toilet. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m on the pill. Besides, you told me you’d been fixed. The only other man I’m having intercourse with is Jean-Claude and he’s over four-hundred years old. I cannot possibly be pregnant!” I didn’t wait for him to reply. I stood up and stalked out of the room. I couldn’t be pregnant. The whole thing was ridiculous. I must have picked up a stomach bug or something. I’m not a full human servant. Maybe being impervious to disease only truly came after the fourth mark.

The visitors had come from France, from the courts, resplendent in the latest fashions, the most sumptuous fabrics, the amazing hairstyles, the heady perfumes. They seemed bright birds amongst the ravens who lived here, who never had reason to feel provincial before. If the castle with its thriving town was no Versailles, it was still prosperous and cause for pride, yet Belle and her company made the place seem somehow less for not being the ornate Rococo backdrop to which they were accustomed.