In the Lair


Paul woke up and opened his eyes. No change. He closed and opened them again. It was very dark. He suddenly remembered that he was not at home, that he was somewhere strange, and Paul was afraid.

When he waved his hand in front of his face, he could see movement. Good. He put his hands down to push himself up and noticed softness below. He was in a shallow nest of blankets.

Paul sat very, very still; he listened. Nothing. Paul wanted to move, but he didn’t let himself. Belatedly, he realized he could have done this lying down, faking sleep. Too late – move on.

Still no noises, so he got to his hands and knees and began exploring. The floor was hard, concrete, perhaps. As his slid his hands along it, Paul cringed. He half expected to encounter something gruesome, something soft and sticky, with rubbery bits and a putrid stench.

Really, there wasn’t a smell here at – scrape. Paul jumped back, startled. His hand had touched something metal. It was a rod the size of his forearm. He grabbed it, comforted, and continued forward. Almost immediately he encountered a wall.

Trace the wall then – okay. Paul felt a moment of vertigo when he ran out of wall. There was fabric draped across the doorway, and Paul stood and stepped through. On the other side, there was dim light – and there was her.

She sat with her back against a wall, writing something on a scrap of paper. She looked up at him with big pupils in big irises, and Paul realized she was beautiful. That was an uneasy realization, and while Paul was trying to stuff that feeling away, she moved – quickly standing up. He stepped back in fear, and felt the weight of the rebar in his hand. She moved toward him, and, filled with a sudden determination, Paul struck.

Or would have struck, had she not ducked and stepped to the side. As he turned to follow her motion, she slipped behind him and pinned his arms to his sides in a bear hug. Paul thrashed, struggling to free at least the arm with his weapon. She tore the steel rebar from his hand and tossed it aside, returning to her controlling position. Paul didn’t even have time to think when she moved. He felt slow and weak. Her arms felt like layers and layers of cord wrapped tightly around him, and he was very conscious of her breasts against his back.

Paul pissed himself.

She whispered to him in a strange voice, her lip brushing against his ear, “If you calm, I will release.”

Paul had never been more miserable. Far from home, he was without options, covered in his own warm urine, and,  now, beginning to feel the first stirrings of arousal.

The tension went out of him, and he slumped over, standing only because she was holding him up. She hauled his trembling form through another doorway and laid him down on a cold floor. She started tugging at his pants, and Paul sobbed and curled away from her. She paused, then stood up and walked away.

She returned with a large bucket, and clunked it down near him. She stood up, folding her arms, and looked at him.

“Your shirt, off.”

Paul nodded, and removed his shirt, remembering the feeling of her breath.

“Your pants also, now.”

His front was clammy and clingy and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t prepared to be naked in front of her, so Paul did nothing.

“Fine, I will remove,” she said, leaning down. She tugged his pants off and tossed them next to his shirt. Then she upended the bucket, pouring frigid water all over him.

The scrubbing hurt – she wasn’t gentle. She started at his neck and washed downward. As she reached the base of his belly she looked up at him and paused. Paul, frightened, did nothing. She washed his sex, then, more gently than the rest, and moved on to his legs.

She tossed a ragged towel on him and said, “Hungry? Do you need to eat?”

No. Paul shook his head, he shook his whole body. He didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to think about food, and he seriously hoped that she felt the same way.

“Then come. We will sleep,” she said, pulling him to his feet.

“We?” he stammered. “I don’t – I’m not sleepy, I’m not tired. I’ll just stay up, then, kay?”

“You are afraid?”

“N-no. No. I’m just not tired.”

“If you go, there may be attack. Stay.”

“Okay. I’ll just stay over here, okay?” he said, gesturing to a corner of the room.

She looked him over. “No. I must be certain.” She sat down in the blanket nest and gestured to him. “Come.”

Paul stepped back. She grabbed his upper arm, pulling him down to the blankets.

“You can stay awake, but keep me warm –  I will keep you safe.”

Paul found himself spooned, with her arm holding him firmly. As she fell asleep, she nuzzled her face into his neck. For just a moment, he could feel the sharpness of a tooth against his skin.

“‘Safe,’ my ass,” thought Paul.

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8 Responses to “In the Lair”

  1. aricollins Says:

    Good ending.

    Also… is this a vampire romance we’re dealing with, here?

  2. Sebatinsky Says:

    Eh. Sort of, I suppose. I got tired of how it’s always a human girl who gets entranced by a male vampire (or just a lot of male vampires entrancing each other, if you’re Anne Rice).

    Basically, I had this world, but I didn’t have a lot of ways to tell about it – fights, abductions, scavenging trips, but nothing with a real narrative, and I needed a good way for the reader to learn about vamp society. I’m not set on this, but it seems like a good way to do that.

    I’m actually still not positive where their relationship goes, if anywhere, but he is in awe of her, and, for reasons to be revealed, she is sorely in need of social closeness.

  3. sonjanitschke Says:

    Cruel, tantalizing ending.

  4. aricollins Says:

    Stephen King has had some good horror succubus type stories/scenes, which were both erotic and gross. Kinda reminds me of that.

  5. Sebatinsky Says:

    Sonja – I will fix it – I swear!

    Ari – You should pass along some titles. I’m interested.

  6. Sebatinsky Says:

    Fixed! I’m not very certain about it. Thoughts?

  7. sonjanitschke Says:

    I like it. I like the way the vampire talks, has a bit of an Otherworldy quality about it.

    But, though no loner cruel, it is still tantalizing! If it were a book I would have turned a page. 🙂

  8. Sebatinsky Says:

    Thanks, Sonja! Perhaps it will be a book, eventually. I’m going to keep writing these shorts and see where they go.

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