Lupercalia post!

[kleenexwoman]

Happy Horny Werewolf Day!
Well, technically that was yesterday. Two days ago, now...but Lupercalia, like Christmas, is one of those things where the spirit should really live all year round. Why should there be a designated holiday to slap the one you love with a blood-soaked goatskin whip, I ask?

Anyway, I wrote stuff for people. If I did not write something for you here, it does not mean I do not love you, it means it turned longer and more complex and eventually it'll show up when you least expect it.

Me/her for nyghtshayde (poem)

Ice-blue skies rimmed with pine; palms, when I dream
Stark sparkling snow; I can see warm gold sand
Chill painted brick; when I touch them, it seems
My fingers graze skin, my lips touch your hand

Swaddled in blankets, I lean back and dream
‘Tis but your arms and a tropical breeze
Warmed through and through by your words on the screen
Cold as the world is, I know I won’t freeze.


Danny/Tim, for beetle_breath (limericks)

There once was an artist named Tim
Whose drawings were awfully grim
He relished the gloom
In his inky-dark room
The macabre visions in which he’d swim.

There once was a singer named Danny
Whose voice was haunting and uncanny
The lyrics he wrote
Ripped the words from his throat
And made his friends fear for his sanity.

The silence in Tim’s room was broken
By Danny’s sounds, sung, played, or spoken
He’d listen and dream
And pretend not to scream
Whenever he felt like croakin’.


Dandies, for drowningxfate (poem)

Silk and satin, rare and fine
Catch the eye in the bright sunshine
A lace cravat or a velvet cloak
Is smooth and soft and nice to stroke

The girl who likes expensive things
Chocolate and engagement rings
Will soon grow bored of her man’s visage
And leave his alone with his mirror image

But the girl who sees past his proud face
Will unwrap his ribbons and lace
For she knows that for every rag he doffs
He’s ten times better with them off.


Dragon/princess bitey-ness for superfinemind (story)

When the dragon slithered down from the ice-blue sky, the princess was the only one who didn’t scream. She leaned over the rail of her balcony, chin propped on fist, watching the peasants below wave their pitchforks and torches at the scaly beast.

The dragon, who had really just come to see if the cows grazing in the meadows were fat enough to eat, was surprised at her apparent boredom—a great flying lizard breathing fire ought to be a fairly noteworthy aspect of a princess’s landscape. He blew a little gout of flame in her direction, just to see her jump.

She merely lifted her head, and a slow, cattish smile grew on her face. Her dainty hand rose to her cherry-red lips, and she blew a kiss back into the dragon’s fire.

Cows suddenly seemed far too common a dish for the dragon. He ducked his head, rippled his neck sinuously, and dove towards the princess. She didn’t scream as he enclosed her in his squamous claws, but laughed and tossed her head back, as though she was on a carriage ride. Her laughter grew wilder and turned into cackling as the dragon flew, a sound that should come out of no princess’s mouth, and she kicked her shapely legs in delight. The dragon began to fear that he had inadvertently kidnapped a witch.

As soon as he got to his cave, the dragon set the princess down on a rock outside. She stumbled a little, but quickly drew herself up and arranged the tatters of her gown; the gauzy pink fabric had snagged on the dragon’s scaly claws during his flight. “So sweet of you to rescue me.”

The dragon settled himself on the ground and folded his wings. “Rescue you? I mean to eat you.” He let a little jet of flame escape his mouth.

“Eat me? I know dragons. If you wanted a meal, you would have stolen some of the peasants’ cows.”

“A princess’s flesh is sweeter and softer than that of some peasant’s cow.” The dragon licked his chops, letting his tongue wander slowly over his dagger-sharp teeth.

“Oh,” the princess sighed, “and I’m sure that the virgins taste even better, don’t they?”

The dragon nodded. “Virgins melt like honey on the tongue,” he told her. “Their bones crunch better, their blood is sweeter…”

“Hmph.” The princess smirked at him. The dragon fidgeted. In truth, he had never eaten a human, much less a virgin princess.

“Particularly the princesses,” he bluffed, hoping to scare her. “Their skin is so soft and silky, what with the…baths they’re always taking.” As he spoke, he hooked the tip of a single huge claw into the princess’s bodice. “Delicate, untouched by any man.” With a twitch of his claw, he ripped the tattered dress off her body.

To his surprise, the princess didn’t shriek and cover herself, as he’d heard human girls were apt to do. She stretched like a cat, shaking out her red-gold curls and rolling her shoulders. “That dress was terribly itchy. Anyway,” she added, “if virgins are so sweet, I’m sure I’d taste like old hay, I’ve let so many knights sneak into my bedroom over the years.”

“That won’t stop me from eating you, you know. I’m very hungry.” The dragon ran his tongue over his teeth again, hoping she’d get the point this time.

The princess laughed. “Why do you think I let you capture me in the first place?” She ran her hands down her body. “Look at my skin! Look at how pale and flawless it is!”

“It’s certainly very pretty,” the dragon agreed.

“I’m sick of it. All of my knights treat me like a delicate little flower,” the princess complained. “They’re afraid to do anything that would leave even the slightest mark on a princess’s skin. They leave in the morning, and there’s nothing to remind me that they ever touched me. No raspberry marks on my neck, no teeth marks on my thigh for me to run my hands over in secret during a state dinner and smile.” She sighed, and stroked her thigh absently. “Skin this soft was just meant to be marked.”

The dragon blushed green and inspected his claws. “And where do I fit into this?”

“Why, your teeth! Don’t you see? Dragons have the sharpest teeth of any beast in the world,” the princess explained, “and I know they aren’t afraid to use them.”

“Oh, that’s it?” The dragon threw his head back and laughed, waving his tail so the emerald scales glittered in the sunlight. “I hate to disappoint you, princess, but my jaws are a thousand times more powerful than that of the strongest man. If I gave you even the lightest nip, it’d take your arm off.”

“I don’t believe you.” The princess crossed her arms and glared at the dragon.

The dragon lowered his head, down to the princess’s level, and stared into her bright green eyes. “Do you want me to show you?”

The princess held out her arm. “Go ahead. I’m not afraid.”

The dragon inhaled. If he was really going to eat this princess, he was going to savor her, not just gulp her down like another cow. A salty-sweet scent hit his nostrils. “Hmm.”

“I asked you to bite me,” the princess informed him crossly, “not sniff me.”

It was really quite a nice scent, better than the mud stink that the cows he ate usually gave off. He gave her neck an experimental lick.

“Oh, that’s better.” The princess arched her neck. “I bathed in rose water this morning,” she informed him. “So I should be quite sweet.”

The taste was oddly addictive. The dragon flicked his tongue over her breasts, where the taste grew stronger and saltier.

“Oooh,” the princess sighed. He dipped his tongue into the hollow between her breasts, lapping up the little droplets of sweat. So this was why his ancestors had demanded princesses, this salt-rose taste! Peasant girls, even the virginal ones, would be covered in grime, and taste no different from cows. The royal ones could afford to bathe in rose water every day, to be sweet for the dragons.

The taste grew saltier, and he moved his tongue down to her smooth taut belly. The princess moaned. “Lower,” she insisted, “lower.” She sank down to her knees, as though obeying her own command. “Here…” She leaned back and stroked the patch of red-gold hair between her legs.

“Hair tastes nasty,” the dragon said. “It’s the texture. I can barely stand cow hair as it is.”

The princess let her fingers disappear between her legs. “Here.”

The dragon licked a stripe down her inner thigh. More rose taste, and something else, dank and a little spicy, that he couldn’t quite name. It grew stronger as he dragged the tip of his tongue up her thigh, and the rose taste almost disappeared as he dipped his tongue into the folds of skin between her legs.

The princess gasped. “Oh, you dear sweet dra…dra…wyrm…oh, teeth, teeth…”

Flicking his tongue back and forth to catch the other taste, not quite as delicious as the rose-sweat mixture but still quite nice, the dragon wondered whether he really should bite her. On one hand, she would be a very tasty snack, and he was getting very hungry. On the other hand…well, his cave wasn’t very far away from the village, and while a few cows here and there hadn’t been enough to make the king send out the guards, in the past, he knew enough about human society to know that a missing princess would certainly be enough to raise the whole army.

In fact, they could very well be heading this way already.

He glanced down at the princess, who was writhing on the rock like an earthworm after it rains. If she wanted marks, she would very well get marks, and then perhaps he could fly her back quickly, before the king’s soldiers were halfway to his cave. He cupped his claws so they made a semicircle of points, and gently, ever so gently, pressed them into the princess’s chest, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t miscalculate the pressure and impale her.

He saw red blood start to well up around his claws, and hastily withdrew them, wiping them on the grass beside him. The princess jerked twice and shrieked, then lay still, with a half-smile on her face.

“Perfect.” She let her hands wander up to her chest, and touched the wet blood. “Oh…you dear thing. You did bite me!” She gazed at the tiny spot of blood on her hand.

“Of course. Took all my willpower to keep from crunching you up, too.” The dragon scooped up the rags that were left of her dress, and dropped them on her chest. “Here, put this on. I’m taking you back to the castle.”

“Mmm. That’s all right.” The princess let the dragon scoop her up in his claw. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Here?” The dragon looked around his tiny domain, a gaunt, rocky cave surrounded by sparse grass. “Why?”

“At least for a little while.” The princess smiled and stroked his scales. “And you can do that again.”

“Do you want to get me killed?” The dragon raised her to his eye level. “I just kidnapped you, princess. Everyone saw. The soldiers are going to be here any second, and it’s been too long since I fought even a single knight for me to stand a chance. If I can get you back to your castle, I might be allowed to live.” He sighed. “Especially with those…tooth marks on you.”

“Fine.” The princess held the bundle of rags to her chest, covering the marks. “I’ll tell Daddy not to kill you.” She gazed up at him. “And if you do want to come back and get me, just every so often…I think I can convince him to give you some extra rose water. And maybe some cows.”

The dragon’s mouth watered at the thought of the rose taste. “I could get used to that.” He launched himself into the air, towards the castle.


Frottage for evillunch (poem)

Oh, the wonderful thing about frottage
Is its absolute versatility
It requires no special equipment or training
Anyone can rub themselves silly

You can bring yourself off in a subway car
If you’ve the balls to hump a total stranger
Or the seat, or the handpole, or the conductor
With a trenchcoat to hide you, you’ll be in no danger

The problem, of course, is reciprocity
It’s impolite to rub and run
Your unknowing partner might be similarly inclined
Go so soon? You’d be missing some fun

The etiquette in such situations
Is to turn to your lovely frottee,
And say, “Sir or madam, it’s been lovely knowing you
And hey…it was damn good for me.”


Original yuri and these two video game characters for tophet_perish (story)

She’s slumped on the futon, video game controller between her legs, staring at the TV screen. “Hold on. I wanna finish this level.”

“God, another one?” I’m lying down next to her, toying with the hem of the oversized T-shirt she’s wearing. She didn’t even bother to put on shorts today, just plopped herself down in her underpants and started playing. Reasonable, since the basement we’re in doesn’t have air conditioning, and it’s at least 90 degrees outside. Actually, maybe staying down here in the dark playing video games is a good idea today.

“Yeah. Come on, I’ve never gotten this far.” I sigh. She’s been playing the same game for a week. It involves the trials and travails of a thing that looks like a meerkat, and his friend who’s a creepy orange sprite. They have to hit things and jump over things. I could never understand those games. Why do you have to hit things? What’s wrong with moving around falling blocks? Falling blocks are nice and peaceful.

“I’m bored,” I tell her. “Come on. Let’s go outside and look for dead things.”

“Too hot,” she grumbles.

“Dead things! How can you resist? Come on, in this heat they’ll be all rotted and fly-covered. It’ll be great!”

She considers this while the meerkat twitches in place. “Can you get me some apple juice?”

“No.” I tap my fingers against her side. “I think you’re out of apple juice, anyway.”

“Did you check in the fridge?”

“No.” I slide my hand down to the waistband of her panties and snap them against her skin.

“Did my mom tell you we were out?”

“No.” I press my lips against her hipbone.

“Then how do you know we’re out of apple juice?”

“I’m guessing, all right?” I murmur around her skin. I flick my tongue out and lick her, just a little. She doesn’t flinch.

“One more level.”

I roll over in defeat. “I rode my bike a whole half mile for you. In this heat.”

“That’s not that far.”

“I didn’t even wear a bra. Just for you.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“It wasn’t. There were people staring at my nipples all the way over.”

“Did they throw any beads at you?”

“What? No.”

“Goddammit!”

“What, you wanted me to get beads for you? You should have told me.”

“No, I died.” She points at the screen. The meerkat is lying on the ground with a little skull over his head. “You distracted me with all your talk of nipples.”

“Well.” I sit up and stick out my chest. “That’s what they’re there for.”

“Mmm.” She sighs and tosses the game controller aside, reaches out without looking and lets her hand rest on my stomach. “Come here.”

“Yeah?” It’s only a little thing, just a touch, but it feels like I’ve just gotten the wind knocked out of me. My belly goes taut, and I close my eyes.

“No bra, really?” Her hand moves up my stomach, skims my ribcage, fingernails just brushing my skin.

“I barely got out of the house.” The game starts over, on the TV screen, but I know she’s not going to notice now.


Girl/lycanthrope for oddzade (story)

Little Henna Hair can dance all night long, if she likes. Gleaming black spirals crayoned across her cheeks, fishnets torn just so, big green eyes flitting from face to face. Vintage vinyl purse packed full of goodies stolen from Grandma’s medicine cabinet. Strutting, whirling, throwing her head back and laughing from sheer giddy love on the dance floor, letting the blue and purple lights spill over her face like fairies swarming a royal newborn.

She can’t see me, not in the crush of squirrel-boys with sincere stripy shirts shaking their bony asses. I’m hiding tonight anyway, watching the kids dance from my little perch on the second floor, right behind the lights. I’d like to say that they remind me of my own youth, the vitality that ebbed away over the years, but the truth is that I’m stronger and more alive than any of them will ever be.

“Sir?” Movement in the shadows, and I whirl around to see a waitress standing behind me.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. Move slowly around me. I told you, I don’t like sudden movements.” This isn’t the whim of a decrepit nightclub owner, just a precaution. If I see something flash past the corner of my eye, I’m likely to pounce, no matter what skin I wear. I don’t want to have police come around to investigate a disemboweled waitress.

“Closing time, sir. 4 AM.” She sidles up to me, running a candy-red fingernail along the cuff of my suit. “Do you want me to…escort you home?” Tempting—I can smell her arousal. But tonight is for Little Henna Hair down there, in the middle of the dance floor.

“I’ll walk.” I pat her on the ass. “Go close down.”

*

The lights turn off, the kids file out the door, whispering and moaning and giggling to each other. I’ve slipped out the back door already, watching them break off in twos and threes. I hope Little Henna Hair came here alone. Friends make it harder to follow. One of them always notices a shadow or a sound, panics, runs, and then you’ve either got to make yourself give up chase or you’ve got the police on your tail.

Ah, here she comes, swinging her bag. Does a little dance step, a little twirl, traipsing down the sidewalk. Alone. I can smell her perfume from here, something sweet and heavy, flowers wilted and burnt.

I let her get half a block away from me before I turn. More room for the chase; it’s no fun if you catch them right away. Concentrate, close my eyes, I shed my skin. Gone is the distinguished older man, iron-grey hair, pinstriped suit, ice-blue eyes that warn of spankings and canings if a frivolous young thing gets out of line. Here are sharp teeth, a red tongue, claws and fur and a nose that can smell a sweet little puppy a mile away.

Her scent’s stronger now, almost overwhelming. I run silent, swift, a grey shadow through the alleyways, following the twists and turns she takes. Little Henna Hair, didn’t your mother tell you to stay out of alleyways?

Ah, and there she is, a red blur atop a swirl of black leather and pale skin. I can’t help myself; I start panting. A little reflex left over from my human form.

The legs stop. “Who’s there?” She glances over her shoulder, but I’ve slipped back into the shadow. All she’ll see are my eyes gleaming, if that. “Come on out.” She backs away, right into a brick wall. No more chase? Maybe she’s tired. “I mean it. Logan? Mel? Is that one of you, playing a joke?” I growl, just a little. Her head whips around. “Please.” I can smell her fear. Good enough.

I slink out of the shadow, into the moonlight. Full moon tonight. She backs away, green eyes widening. “Oh. A doggie!” Doggie? Has the girl never seen a nature show? Does she think I’m some lost pup? I snarl, show my teeth.

She crouches. “Come here,” she whispers. “Come here.” The fear’s gone, that tangy smell in my mouth. A strange little smile grows on her face. “My, what big teeth you have…”

I tense my legs and pounce on the girl, bowling her over onto the pavement. The vinyl purse flies out of her hand, and I’ve got her pinned to the ground, my paws on her shoulders, breathing hot onto her face. She’s laughing, laughing, the girl is laughing, why isn’t she scared that I’m going to tear her throat out?

“Nice doggie,” she whispers, “nice wolf, sweet boy…” Her pale hands bury themselves in my fur, gripping handfuls of it. “So soft, so soft…” They’re everywhere, somehow, stroking my belly, trailing down the smooth path of fur on my head.

What’s wrong with this picture? Predator, prey, Little Henna Hair and the Big Bad Wolf. Where’s the fear I smelled a moment ago? I growl again, licking my chops. The better to eat you with, my dear!

“I know you,” she whispers, “I’ve seen you around. Skulking in the alleys after my friends. I saw you change, in the shadows.” Her hand trails down my nose.

A chill runs down my back. I will myself to shift again, slowly twisting my bones into the form of the man I show the world. I see her eyes widen—it’s one thing to be nuzzling a wild animal in an urban alley. That’s exotic, exciting, something to tell your friends the next day if you get out of it alive.

Being pinned to the ground by a naked man in an alley is something quite, quite different, especially if you’re a delicate Goth flower like Little Henna Hair is. My hands tighten around her shoulders. “Very clever, my dear,” I murmur. “Clever girl. You’ve been watching me? For how long?”

She swallows. “A few weeks. Ever since I started coming. You don’t…” Her voice is wavering, and she sounds less sure of herself. “I know you don’t eat them. Not like wolves do.” Her hands reach up to stroke the back of my neck. “I saw them come back, after all.”

“Quite right.” I bend my head and kiss her, catching her lower lip in my teeth.

She twists her head to the side, breaking the kiss. “No.”

I growl, and I know it sounds the same. “No? No?”

“I mean…” Her hands bury themselves in my hair. “Wolf. I want to you be a wolf.” She smiles and runs her tongue over her lips. “That’s what I led you here for.”

I laugh, and change, and the moonlight is sweet…