Midnight's Song

A rather dark vampire encounter, my first erotic story, written a long time ago. X, MX, BD, Caution 1994

I looked around me in some distaste at the village square and the buildings around it. Just one more backwoods farmer's village, its survival based on its livestock and its harvests. It had been a very long time since I'd come across anyone in such a place who was worth the seeking at all. Yet something had drawn me here, all that remained now was to find the source. I ran my tongue over my teeth, anticipation thrilling through me. It had been too long since I'd last properly fed.

* * *

The murmurs of the wind outside the window. The chirping of the crickets below. The distant howls of a pack of wolves. The wind's cool kiss against his cheek. That was the night world to the harper of the Shadowed Moon tavern, and he spent many a night with the shutters thrown open to the world outside, the world he had been denied by an accident of birth. His world, instead, was this little room the innkeeper gave him for using harp and voice to please in the common room below. Merely existing, for the sake of those moments of losing himself in the music.

An owl hooted, somewhere nearby, and he smiled, leaning against the rough wood of the windowframe. He liked the night. The quiet meant less interference with his hearing, and it put him on more equal footing with others. There was magic in the night....

He sighed, turned away. The room held only his narrow bed, a small chest for his few possessions, and a single hard chair. That, and his lap harp Rowan, for the wood she was shaped of. He dropped a hand to her, traced with a fingertip the swirls of her carvings. His one love.

A couple of steps took him to the bed. He shed his wool and linen clothes, curled up on the hard straw mattress between rough wool blankets, head on his one small pillow. The lullaby of the winds sang him to sleep.

Something brushed ticklish-light over his cheek, pulling him instantly awake. He lay still, straining for any clue. Nothing.

Until a voice murmured, very close to his ear, "Harper. I know you're awake."

He jerked away, heart tripling its speed, hit the wall behind him. "Who's there?"

"Oh, don't fear, harper." That voice was low, just a little husky, and not even a musician's ear could distinguish gender. A soft-skinned finger ran along the line of his jaw. "I've no intentions of hurting you. I simply noticed you earlier this evening, and was intrigued. The temptation of one so talented was too great." It became a purr, breath tickling his ear. "How long since you had anyone to warm your bed, harper?"

He relaxed a little, though he remained on guard. "Who are you?"

"At present, I'm called Silk." Teeth nibbled, very gently, tugging at his earlobe, a tongue ran upwards behind. "And I've been told I'm well-named."

His heart was pounding still, but not in fear now. He could demand this person leave, even call for help if need be....

Yet, those kisses playing along his cheek, his throat, down over his shoulder, they were tantalizing, promised so much, far more than the few village women who had shared his bed....

He reached out, and his questing hand found shoulder-length hair softer than anything he'd ever felt, found a shoulder covered with smooth leather, he thought that was a vest, and what had to be silk under it, loose, whispering against the skin beneath.

Silk chuckled, very low, caught his wrist in a strong cool hand. "That I think I will take as consent. Lie down." The rough blankets were pulled away. He obeyed the command, felt his wrists trapped, something so-soft wrapped snugly around them, and when Silk's hands left his wrists were bound to the head of the bed.

Another chuckle, as he protested. "Patience, harper. I promise, you'll enjoy this much more if you relax and do as I say."

He didn't like the idea of being helpless with a stranger, tugged at whatever was restraining him, hoping to get loose. The knots holding him were firm, he couldn't free his hands however he twisted and pulled and squirmed. Silk let him fight for a while, the harper could practically feel the eyes on him. Eventually, he gave up, breathing a bit hard from the struggle. It looked like he was going to have to submit to whatever Silk chose to do with him, unless he was desperate enough to shout for someone else.

Silk came near again, began to explore his body by touch, stroking, teasing, moving to straddle his legs to make it easier to reach. His neck, his upper chest at first, his shoulders, his face, lazy caresses. They moved lower, he waited impatiently, ticklish-light up and down the insides of his thighs, more firmly. A finger stroked the length of his already-hard cock, slid behind and a hand cupped his balls, that finger now stroking them instead. The other hand found his nipples, toying with one at a time. A finger tracing small circles, sometimes a slightly painful pinch, a few times sharp nails were dragged down his chest. The combination was electric.

The exploration shifted, without warning, became leisurely wandering body-kisses. Slowly, they roamed up his arms, Silk rocking sideways and forward in the process, up to nip at his fingers, lick at his palm, back, the same repeated on the other side, down across his chest. He was aware, as Silk sat back, of smooth leather taut over firm muscle, against his legs, holding him still, however much the sensations were prompting him to move. Ever lower those kisses wandered, pausing at his nipples to tease each mercilessly, sucking hungrily, biting just hard enough to sting, tongue caressing them in slow circles. He yielded utterly; this was as far beyond the village women as the power of a storm was beyond the whisper of a breeze. In the wake of those kisses, every nerve was alive with fire, and still they were travelling lower. Silk deliberately worked on every inch save his cock itself, leaving him in an agony of anticipation, wondering, waiting... ever downwards, the outside of his thigh, back up the inside, as much as could be reached with his legs trapped together, the same on the other leg.

When lips and tongue came to his hard, aching member itself, with kisses and long luxurious licks... he moaned, felt his guts clench, felt his own nails dig into his palms. Silk waited a moment, fingers combing through dense curly fur, for an eternity that increased his impatience to unbearable levels. Finally, Silk began again, tongue running purposefully along the bottom, from head to base and back again, repeatedly. The harper moaned again, higher, unable to keep his body from writhing in reaction to a pleasure more intense than he'd ever imagined. He needed release, knew it was near.

Silk sat back.

"Please," the harper whispered.

"Patience," came the reply. "Do you like it so little you want it over?"

"Gods, no!" It came out as a gasp, a kind of plea for mercy.

"You want me to keep on, then?"

"Oh, gods, yes, please, don't stop."

Which gained him another of those throaty laughs. And mercy, in some form. Silk left off with the kisses, began to suck instead. A hand around to steady his cock and draw back the foreskin, warm lips and firm pressure around, no trace of teeth, the flick of a tongue just at the tip, licking the underside. Sliding back and forth, each time taking him a little farther within before retreating, but always keeping at least the head inside and at the mercy of the flirtations of the tongue.

He couldn't quite catch his breath; wanted to scream when Silk drew back again, mere seconds before the critical point. Need so strong it ached, all through his body; he was half-sobbing as he pleaded with Silk.

"Well, perhaps you deserve it." One finger traced a line like fire from the hollow of his throat downwards. "So easy to please you. We've barely begun."

After another pause, Silk went back to work. He could feel throat muscles loosening and clenching, accepting him always farther within on every stroke. Mercifully, although fear tied his innards into knots, fear that Silk would deny him again, he was permitted to come, felt his body spasm with it, felt Silk swallow fast.

Silk finally released him, stretched out beside the panting, sweat-drenched, still-shuddering harper.

"So easy. You've learned nothing of true pleasure in this backward place. Luckily, you have me to teach you." Lips touched his, for a long kiss, those same lips that had created that maddening pleasure.

The harper felt his own part under them without conscious thought; Silk's tongue ran along his teeth, brought a somewhat salty taste. Probed farther, and he returned it eagerly, wishing he had his hands free to hold Silk there, he'd never met anyone who kissed quite that way. He was teased that way, too, Silk allowed it for a moment, broke away to nip at his throat, lick behind an ear, follow the line of his jaw back to where the harper could reach again.

"What about you?" he asked, once he had sufficient breath. Once Silk had ended that game quite clearly by refusing him any more; he had no choice but to accept that, unable to force the issue.

"Oh, I'll have what I want. No need to hurry. Better to wait and anticipate."

* * *

This harper was mine, utterly mine. Finally, I could feed and feel satisfied afterwards.

The hunger was so intense, so strong, I nearly broke down right then, sank sharp teeth into the throat so vulnerable beside me, the pulse beating strong and hard. He was so perfect, the creative and the artists always were.

Resolutely, I leashed the hunger inside. There was great delight to be found in the giving of pleasure. He was mine regardless; let him have the experience.

Before I took what was mine.

* * *

Silk moved away, briefly. A moment later, his mysterious lover was straddling his legs again, and cool hands were running over his chest. They were oily-wet with something spicy-smelling, and his skin tingled in reaction. Silk's hands missed not an inch in reach while rubbing in the oily stuff, always slowly. Along his face, and the harper tried to nuzzle against those hands, was reprimanded for it and commanded to be still. Over his chest, teasing his now highly sensitive nipples, the motion was gentle with little pressure, but after as much stimulation as they'd had already this caused a sensation that bordered on pain. Even down between his legs to the opening there, teasing it, a finger sliding inside and beginning to stroke a place that made pleasure vibrate through his entire body. One hand there, the other massaging his penis... more quickly than he would ever have believed, he was hard again, and straining at his bonds, wanting frantically to reach his tantalizer.

Silk pressed a kiss to his throat. "So impatient." Motion, away from him, the sounds of leather and silk on skin. When Silk returned, it was bare skin that touched his. "Be still, now."

He tried to sort out the next series of movements, discovered Silk was settling on him, but what accepted him wasn't the opening he knew, it was tighter, dry save the oil, very warm... strange to him, but he liked it, felt muscles clench hard, felt Silk moving so he was sometimes entirely inside, sometimes barely at all. Very slow, maddeningly so, very deliberate, with control that seemed too complete to be human. Did Silk feel nothing?

Those thoughts were too abstract; he lost track of them. Of everything else, too, except longing, when Silk changed position, left him held in limbo again, no way to escape alone.

"Please," he begged again.

"Oh? Perhaps I've had enough. I could go back to my own room now."

"No, oh gods, no, don't go...."

"But I need to get up tomorrow." In the space of one laboured breath, he was alone on the bed. He heard silk and leather whisper.

"Please! What do you want me to do? Please don't leave."

A pause, every heartbeat the life of a star.

"Since you asked nicely."

More of the oily stuff was slathered liberally over his cock, the hands that did it teasing him still, toying with his balls, a tongue swept over just the tip, and he was taken deep into Silk's body again.

Silk kept the same rhythm, tortuously slow, holding him on the edge for what felt like forever. On some level, he was aware of his own low cries, half because he didn't want it to end ever, half because if it didn't end soon he wasn't going to be able to bear it. Close, so close, and yet again Silk paused, simply held quite still and let him slide back down a bit, oblivious to the harper's pleas. Began again, but this time the pace quickened, more determinedly, insisting that he come. Exactly what he wanted so desperately; without thinking about it, he thrust upwards with his hips, as hard as he could, it was awkward tied as he was, but he felt a soft grunt from Silk, the first sound yet other than cool words that tortured him even more. Kept thrusting, felt the edge where Silk had repeatedly halted him, but this time he wasn't denied, he came again, his whole body shuddering with it.

Silk eased off him, leaned forward.

"You've done very well, harper," came the murmur. "But now it's time for something different. Even my patience isn't endless, and you're so very tempting...."

A kiss on his throat, a slight stinging.

Then sheerest, impossible pleasure, beyond which nothing else existed, and it went on and on without end....

* * *

I sat back, licking my lips clean. His chest no longer rose and fell with his breath; his heart no longer beat. But he'd enjoyed his death more than most humans did.

I'd enjoyed his death, too. I hadn't felt so satisfied in months. He'd felt everything so intensely, I'd been feeding off his emotions the entire time and such a feast it was.

I wiped myself clean with one of the blankets, got dressed. Retrieved my silk scarf from around the harper's wrists. It really was a shame my lovers never survived. This one might have been intriguing for a short while.

Oh, well. I always found more. I certainly had time.

I left the village, closed my eyes to search mentally. Hmm, something calling, off to the east, where the sky was just beginning to gray....


(c) 11/93, last revised 02/02