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Outercourse With the Vampire

©2021 Bruno Hirschkoff

*

It was a dark and stormy night.

Persistent, warm rain lashed the elegant rooftops of the city of Hordifell, a distinctive skyline that found itself silhouetted against sheets of electric blue flickering in the night sky. The city, despite the growling of the Storm Goddess' pleasure, slumbered beneath its blanket of terracotta tiles.

Mostly.

Ilyn trembled and quivered. Their breathing, although entirely unnecessary given their vampirism, came in shallow and heated gasps. Chiropteran claws gripped the ancient oaken rafter from which Ilyn hung, shrouded in their subtle and furtive pleasure. The barest movement, the most fleeting and feathery caress of Ilyn's hooked wingtip along the taut bowstring of nerves betwixt the cleft of their glans and the darkened scarline that demarcated the point of incision all those years ago, was enough to send the diminutive bat into a tremulous trance of sexual freneticism.

They had been doing so for many an hour already, while the Storm Goddess vented her lust across the city outside.

A steady, oozing flow of magically-elicited emissions dribbled from the taut, dry dome of Ilyn's arousal-gaped urethra. Their scrotum, long since emptied of organs that were of no use to a vampire anyhow, nevertheless clenched as if to push its distantly-remembered contents up to either side of their phallic root. The potion supplied by the Brotherhood of Ikhael was even more effective than its exorbitant price had suggested. Pleasure the likes of which Ilyn had not felt since mortal blood flowed in their veins clouded their mind. They had brought themselves to orgasm already, of course--it had been their first instinct upon seeing their long-desiccated rod jutting lewdly from between their thighs after so many years of dormancy. But now, the focus had shifted from relief to an ongoing, raging bonfire of sexuality.

Enfolded within their dark, leathery wings, and lost as they were in their newly rediscovered pleasure, Ilyn did not notice at first that the stag had returned.

Bruno shrugged his rain-soaked cloak from his shoulders upon ascending to the cavernous loft of Hordifell Cathedral, a space which, during his stays in the capital of Ithenor, he shared with Ilyn. An odd companionship it was that they shared--one whose origins neither could quite recall, but which had most definitely occurred while Ilyn had been mortal, still. Time, as the Gods were wont to demonstrate, is not necessarily a constant, nor linear in its passage.

Quiet, irregular sounds emanated from the quivering bundle of wings that hung some six feet above the loft's dusty floorboards. A dry sort of rustling, not unlike that made by dropping a stack of parchments, but with repetitive and deliberate intent. A shiver accompanied a telltale spike in the cadence of Ilyn's subtle movement, followed by a flurry of droplets landing on the floor beneath them with a quiet pattering, just barely audible over the drumming of rain on the roof above.

Again and again, Ilyn repeated that motion. It had been so long since they had felt the rush of sexual pleasure; a chemical response overwhelmingly associated with the living. Another shudder ran through their inverted form and the flurry of droplets quickened again, for a few moments. Abruptly, Ilyn stopped.

In the gloom, Bruno could just barely see the bat's ears twitch and swivel towards him. A chitter of echolocation followed, and Ilyn harrumphed.

"How long have you been there?" they muttered. Their voice was raspy and dry, as one might have expected from a long-dead larynx, but still carried a lilt of femininity with which Bruno was familiar.

"Long enough," Bruno replied cryptically. "The Ikhael acolyte's potion seems to be working, still."

"It is...it... I cannot find the words to describe this. Even as... mutilated as I was in life, the absence of sexual energy in undeath was like a void compared to what I feel now. Feeding was my only pleasure, but _this... _I do not recall even in life, getting such feelings from my body."

The heat, metaphorical or not, in Ilyn's voice was unmistakeable. Bruno felt a twinge of endearment for the winged 'monster,' which went straight to the elk stag's groin and manifested as a swelling of his own flesh--itself very much still in the realm of mortality. Bruno stepped in closer to Ilyn until he was face to face with his inverted companion.

"You know," Bruno smirked, "you haven't let me play with it yet, since you took the potion?"

"I cannot. You know this. Not if there is any chance that anything that comes out of me, goes into _you. _Vampirism is not a blessing, Bruno, and I am yet to hear of any academician who has studied the potential of vampire...juice... to turn mortals."

"Because it's never happened."

"Because no vampire in known history has ever been able to get it up, and female-bodied vampires are drier than the Great Desert."

"No vampire can get it up, let alone spend fourteen solid hours edging."

Ilyn's inky eyes fluttered, and they caressed their frenulum scar with that hooked wingtip once again. A shudder ran through their body and a fresh splatter of fluid cascaded onto their chin, only to be swiped up by their own tongue before Bruno got any cute ideas.

The elk stag gave an aroused rumble, and reached up with his callused, horn-fingered hands to part Ilyn's wings like a veil to reveal the curiosity with. A curiosity that caused Bruno to surge to erection in his linen trews in an instant. He'd seen and experienced Ilyn in various stages of arousal many times, but not since their turning. Ilyn had always eschewed the notion of binary gender. Perhaps it was that, which broke through the elk stag's usual asexuality and lit a spark of lust in him. The sight of Ilyn's drum-tight, scarred genitalia elicited heated memories in the elk, and he instinctively reached up to touch it.

"I won't lick it, don't panic," he reassured his friend, when they recoiled with a frightened hiss.

Ilyn relaxed. Perhaps it was their extreme state of arousal that contributed to their compliance. Or perhaps not. The feeling of the elk's warm, dry, rough hand surrounding their rigidly engorged flesh brought forth a shuddering groan from the bat. Clawed, vampiric hands dropped to Bruno's groin in return, palming roughly at the warm, fleshy ridge in the stag's trews while their own spewed forth yet more cloudy, slick fluid that ran over Bruno's fingers and fell between their bodies.

"Come down from there, Ilyn," Bruno suggested quietly.

A rustle of wings and a rush of air followed. Ilyn stood to Bruno's chest height, and was noticeably more finely-built; in part because of the bat's heritage, but mostly because Bruno was enormous. The size difference between them was almost comedic, but to Bruno was intensely endearing. The vampire's wings parted and with a flicker of claws, the stag's trews pooled around his hooves momentarily before being kicked across the dusty floor, out of reach. His tunic made a similar journey, leaving him clad only in his undershorts.

With a pleased chitter from Ilyn, Bruno's fur met that of the creature who had terrorised the night for centuries.

I did mention that the linearity of time is an illusion, did I not?

Ilyn's hips drove the vampire's technically impossible erection against Bruno's thigh, with an urgency the stag had not felt from the bat in a long time. It was almost an oedipal urge, a blind seeking of the pleasure of friction not necessarily constrained by notions of intent. Bruno allowed his hand to slide down, momentarily brushing his fingers along Ilyn's rigid flesh, slickened by their own emissions over many hours.

The vampire snarled. "Clearly, you are _into _this, risky or not."

"I... were you expecting me to not be?"

"As mutilated as I am, I cannot believe that anyone is attracted to me. Even if I were alive. But now I am not. I am a cold, dead thing that feasts on blood and has not had so much as a morning erection in three centuries."

Bruno responded by gazing down between them, at Ilyn's penis. 'Ruined' might have been an apt descriptor. Ilyn themselves often quipped that they had been circumcised by a drunken, blind dockworker with a pair of blunt shears and a grudge. The result was an organ that had always proved difficult for the bat to draw enjoyment from. The way Bruno drooled over it made up for that, in some small measure. Ilyn could not deny that. And in some strange way, the vampire's castration had only cemented their sensuality for the elk stag.

Bruno delicately ran his finger around the jagged, striated scar that bifurcated the bat's shaft. "You know how much it appeals to me. It's like... the way your eyes light up when you see a throbbing jugular vein. Same attraction."

"What, like seeing a tankard of ale offered to you?"

Bruno snorted. "No. You know exactly what I mean."

The vampire trembled as the stag's finger brushed along their frenulum, itself the result of restorative magic some years prior to their vampiric turning. At least they could feel _something, _for the first time since that moment.

"I... Bruno. I... need to... I need to _use _this."

The hunger in Ilyn's eyes was quite similar to the hunger they displayed when a meal was on offer. Bruno was momentarily slightly concerned. Had the potion affected the vampire's self-control? While Bruno wouldn't have been entirely averse to the idea of immortality-at-a-price, the elk did appreciate his natural erections and warm-bloodedness.

With supernatural strength that caused Bruno to make a noise entirely unexpected of a 40-something elk of his size, Ilyn lifted his friend and placed him delicately on the mattress the stag slept upon when he was visiting Hordifell. The vampire slid up behind him. A cold and unnecessary breath washed over the middle of Bruno's back, and the stag could see where Ilyn was going. His heart raced at the prospect. Bruno's asexuality and personal preferences had always rendered him averse to the idea of being penetrated, or indeed to feeling a rod at his backside. Ilyn's vampiric impotence had meant that such a scenario had never arisen between them. Until now. Unexpectedly, Bruno found himself not only comfortable, but eager for it.

Ilyn pushed up behind Bruno, and ground the magically enhanced flesh at their groin against the elk stag's muscular buttocks. A leathery wing draped across Bruno's hip, and its corresponding hand snaked into the front of Bruno's undershorts.

"Ah! Cold," Bruno chuckled.

Ilyn chittered. Their fingers curled around the elk's cock, exploring its familiar shape, warmth and texture. But this was different. Their dynamic was utterly the reverse of how it usually manifested. Ilyn's first erection in centuries drove the soft cotton of Bruno's undershorts between the stag's buttocks as the vampire sought a continuation of the trance-like friction they had been engaging in for the whole of the previous day and into the evening. And for a change, Bruno was on the receiving end. It was glorious. Ilyn's hand squeezed roughly around Bruno's rod, twisting around the elk's own scar and sliding up to surround his firm, spongy glans in the icy grip of undeath. Bruno responded by flexing, sending a drool of warm fluid into Ilyn's touch. The bat pushed in closer, nestling their penis in a cocoon of cervine warmth, and rocked their hips in a steady, slow rhythm, grinding their frenulum through cotton, fur and body heat.

The drool of fluid returned almost immediately. Bruno could feel the cold liquid seeping through to his skin. Ilyn trembled and shook behind him, and the stag slowly gyrated his hips, both to emphasise Ilyn's movements and to push his own through the vampire's tight grip.

"I didn't... I never thought you'd be into this," Ilyn hissed. "Big elk daddy being the little spoon? You've got a cock between your cheeks and you're hard as iron!"

Bruno flexed, slickening Ilyn's palm with another heavy drool of precum, which the bat used to firmly corkscrew their grip around the elk's glans.

"Nngh. Only for you, daddy's little neckbiter," Bruno retorted with a grin.

Ilyn went silent for a long while. The vampire was not breathing, and even though Bruno was well aware of the fact that they did not need to, it was unnerving--even over and above the total lack of body heat coming from the bat. The pace of Ilyn's grinding increased until, with a pleasured snarl, the vampire rammed their mutilated appendage forward between Bruno's thighs, and ejaculated. A gush of cold, watery fluid issued forth in throbbing squirts.

"If I had any balls, that might have emptied them," Ilyn murmured between the elk's shoulderblades, even as their penis continued to pulse rhythmically.

"After three centuries of biologically enforced abstinence? Really?"

"No."

Bruno laughed, rolled onto his back and then towards Ilyn. The vampire's eyes flicked down to the elk's penis, which jutted out over the loose waistband of his undershorts, finding itself perilously close to Ilyn's own, and to the mess they'd made of themselves over the course of the day.

"No, Bruno. Turn away. I cannot risk accidentally turning you. There is no cure."

"Implying that what you have is a disease."

"Is it not?"

Bruno complied, turning his back on his companion. The persistence of the vampire's magical erection was impressive, the elk thought, as Ilyn nestled it once again between his slickened buttocks.

Abruptly, there was a thump and a muffled groan from somewhere nearby, in the gloom of the loft.

"Uh. Ilyn? Who's that?"

"Dinner."

There was a moment of awkward silence while the reality of Ilyn's condition re-asserted itself. The bat was not the endearing, vegetarian friend Bruno had known all those years ago, even as close as they were in physicality and demeanour.

"They misgendered me," the vampire explained, with a shrug.

"Ahh. I... deliberately, right?"

"Of course. Mistakes I forgive. But I am _ravenous _for transphobia."

Bruno made a strangled sort of groan, and ground heavily backward into his companion. Ilyn retaliated with a shuddering thrust between the elk's cheeks, and then another, and another. A momentary frenzy of humping followed, which culminated in Ilyn bringing themselves to the drooling, trembling edge of another climax. Then it passed. Ilyn's hand returned to the elk's penis, milking it with slow, almost painful roughness.

"What was that about?" Ilyn mumbled.

"Just... the power in that statement got me, heh."

"I haven't always been such a philanthropist."

"I know. That was a long time ago, though."

"Yet, it fuelled most of the urban legends about my kind. I feel as though I owe reparations."

"Hardly. From what I've heard, even during your... less discerning phase, most of your meals were the scum of the world."

Ilyn's razor sharp fangs grazed the warmth of Bruno's neck. The elk shivered, but trustingly tilted his antlered head away from the vampire at his back. Ilyn's hand was warming up by then, or perhaps it was the stag's penis that was chilled to match the vampire's lack of body heat. Whichever was the reality, Bruno felt the spark of arousal nestled deep in the root of his penis set off the kindling of his burning lust. His heavy, full balls ascended in response to Ilyn's friction. A breathy, urgent warning went unheeded, or so Bruno thought. He could not see the fanged grin that split the vampire's face behind him.

With a twinge of cruelty, Ilyn milked the elk's granite-hard rod for a further few moments, and then let it go. Completely. Bruno gave a muffled bellow into the sudden absence of friction, his cock pulsing lazily and oozing a thick drool of semen onto the mattress.

"Nnngh! You little rotter," Bruno protested. "I was two strokes away!"

"I know," Ilyn smirked.

The stag went to replace Ilyn's hand with his own, anything to push him that final inch to the edge of his endurance, but the bat's supernaturally strong grip on his wrist prevented it.

"If I can edge for fourteen hours, Bruno..."

Bruno groaned.

"...so can you."

*