It’s late, dark outside but the moon is full. It bathes the countryside in its light. It smells like rain and bitter memories. Frogs croak in the distance, fireflies float around outside the front windows. They’re fogged up, making it difficult to see through. Beyond that, you notice a dark figure emerging from the treeline. You set your supper onto the kitchen table and make your way outside.
It’s a man. He notices you walk out onto your front porch. He draws closer. He’s wearing a light button up with long sleeves and brown pants with suspenders. A belt with a large buckle adorns his waist.
“My horse done ran off on me. Bastard made it halfway to Kentucky by the time I realized.” he drawls, vaguely Southern in nature. He draws closer, seemingly casual but you get the feeling he’s trying to put on a front. What for, you don’t know.
“I hate to be a bother, ma'am, 'specially this late at night,” he drawls. “But it’s late and I’m real far from home.” He draws closer again.
“Would you happen to have a telephone I could borrow to call for a ride?” He takes a step up onto your front steps. Carefully, as if he's trying not to spook you.
As he nears you begin to make out more of his features.You notice he's handsome. Strikingly so. Strong jaw, dark, tousled hair. Pale skin and bright blue eyes. They seemingly glow in the pale moonlight. A bead of sweat rolls down his chest and through the patch of dark wiry hair there.
But what really catches your attention is his mouth. Behind pink, full lips there lays two razor sharp canines. Sharp enough to pierce. Maybe even sharp enough to kill. You drag your gaze back up to his eyes. He meets yours. His grin spreads, nearly splitting his face wide open.
“I understand, a random man showing up to your home in the middle of the night ain’t somethin’ you prolly wanna be dealin’ with right now,” he says as he holds his arms out, palms to the heavens, “but I won’t be long. I’ll make my calls and be outta your hair in a jiffy.”
You take a second to ponder his request. You know logically that inviting a strange man into your home in the middle of the night is not a smart idea. But something about him draws you in. something old, ancient even. Something calling you from beyond the veil, persuading you to let it inside. For what, you don’t know yet. He’s staring at you, smiling, waiting. You finally open your mouth to speak.
“Ok. Come on in.” His grin grows wider. He nods and makes his way past you and into your small home. It’s homey, he thinks. Quaint. Comfortable. Nothing like what he’s used to. His gaze falls back on you.
“Would you like to sit?” you ask. He nods and takes a seat at your small wooden dining table.
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” you ask.
“I could go for something to drink, actually. Do you have tea?”
“Yes, ma’am.” he drawls. You make him a small cup of sweet tea and set it on the table in front of him. You sit opposite of him with your own cup of tea. He takes a sip and smacks his lips as he swallows in pleasure. “You sure know how to make a cup of tea, huh?”
You smile shyly behind your cup. “Yes, my momma taught me how.” you say.
“Ah,” he says. “You talk to her often?” he asks as he takes another drink.
“No, she lives a state away.” you tell him.
“Ah, I understand. Mine is long gone now.” he admits, sadly. You nod.
“I’m sorry. That must be hard.” you say.
“Eh, time has a way of numbing pain.” he says.
“I can see how that could help.” you agree. He sets his cup down on the table. He pushes his chair back and stands. He stretches and groans.
“So, about that phone call.” he says. You rise as well and make your way over to where the house phone sits on the kitchen counter.
“What’s the phone number?” you ask. You turn around and he’s closer than he was previously. There’s a glint in his eye that makes your gut churn. You try not to show it.
He rattles off a series of numbers. You turn back around to enter the number. As you turn the wheel to the first few letters, you feel someone at your back. There’s a hot breath on the back of your neck. The small hairs there stand on end. You shudder. He takes a deep breath in, apparently smelling you. You work up the courage to turn around.
His eyes, dark and hungry searching yours- waiting. For what? Permission? You've already given him that. No, it's something else, something deeper. He wants to see what you're going to do next. Lying in wait, anxious for your next move. Much like chess, you must choose your next movement wisely. Carefully. You put your hands on his chest. You notice after a beat that there isn’t one in his sternum. No heartbeat. Nothing. Just a hollow, empty space. What the hell is going on? You finally raise your head to look him in the eyes. They’re a dark crimson, like blood. Yours runs cold. He smirks.
“What’s wrong, sugar? Cat got your tongue?” he asks. You’re frightened, that’s expected. But what throws him off is the light scent wafting up into his nose of arousal. Interesting. It’s sweet and salty, musky even. But not in a bad way. In an earthy, natural way. He wants to rub his face in it like a wild dog, mark himself with it. He raises one of his hands to your jaw, as he does you realize he has claws. Long, threatening things that reach past your ear. Somehow this doesn’t scare you. If anything, it makes you more intrigued.
You’re open and wanting. He’s waiting patiently, seemingly waiting for you to flee. He’s ready for the chase. He’s ready to pounce like a fox on a rabbit. Maybe he’s used to those he deals with taking flight when they realize it’s a trap. No, not you. You’re different. You know the danger you’re getting yourself into and you accept it with open arms, open legs.
As he settles at the root of you your legs shake and your feet grapple for a hold on the carpet. The slide is made easy by the slick between your legs. He wraps his long fingers around your throat. He squeezes, harder and harder. Dark spots appear in your vision.
You’re starting to lose consciousness. He doesn’t seem to notice. Finally, either he realizes you’re going limp or he gets bored, and he lets go of your throat. You suck in a large ragged breath. As much as you can at least with the way he’s ramming into you with reckless abandon. He's hitting the end of you repeatedly. It's almost painful, but in a bittersweet way.
You close your eyes briefly but snap them open when you feel a clawed hand grab your jaw.
You come. Screaming. Shaking. He groans deep in his chest and comes with you, filling you up with his essence. His member twitches inside of you. It spills out of you from around him and onto the carpet below.
You finally both come down and your breathing slows to match each other’s.
“What were you doing out this late anyway?” you ask.
“Looking for you,” he purrs. You close your eyes and let sleep overtake you. You’ll address that in the morning.
Inspired by the works of @spikedfearn, @i-smoke-chapstick, @fairyysoup
Original work written by @notyourfriendok
