For One Bite Only
Morris flashed her a wide, wicked smile. Licking his two long fangs. "You a deer?" he asked the doe.
"A female deer," Sakona said, grinning back at him. Her slender form, her furry breasts ... indicated enough. "And you're ... " She squinted. They were in a bar. "A bat," she said. "You're a bat."
He showed his fangs again. Chuckling. "Indeed," he said.
"What kind of bat?" she asked.
"Hmm?"
"What kind of bat?" she asked. "No, wait. Wait. Let me guess," she said, looking him over. He was dark black, as black as night. His eyes had a glint of darkness in them, despite being yellow. And he had claws on his paws. Pointy ones. And two sharp fangs coming out of his mouth, on either side of his mouth. She squinted, tilting her angular head. "You a fruit bat?"
Morris rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said dryly. "I'm a fruit bat."
"I thought so." She nodded at his drink. At his blood red drink. "That why you're drinking tomato juice? I heard," she said, conspiratorially. "That tomatoes are fruits. Not vegetables. That's why you're drinking tomato juice ... cause you're a fruit bat," she whispered.
He stared blankly at her.
"I'm drinking ginger ale," she said, "Only it must've gone bad, cause ... I've got the giggles. It often does, you know. Goes bad." Pause. "Ginger ale," she said, looking to him. Nodding. And then she stared blankly into space for a moment. And then smiled. "You want some company?" she asked, beaming. "Like ... you know?"
He knew. And had been hoping she would ask. Had been hoping to get his fangs in that tender neck. Had been hoping for her blood. He grinned. "We'll go back to my place," he said above the noise. Above the music.
They walked up the steps. To the front porch of his house. The deer craned her neck. The house was old and falling apart, filled with cobwebs. Above it, in the sky, heat lightning flashed. Again. Again. Illuminating the eerie mansion.
"I bet you do a pretty penny on Halloween," the deer said. Looking about. They were at the front door.
Morris put his pawed wings on her arms, pinning her to the door. He was itching for this. Itching for her blood. He needed it. He needed it now.
Sakona grinned.
Morris went in for the kiss ... or the kill. Or whatever. He just needed to sink in, have his fangs suck some ...
"Ooh," Sakona went, stepping aside, eyes on something else. "A lightning bug!"
The bat's jaws snapped the air where her neck had been. He almost bit his tongue. He growled from the throat, whirling. The deer was on the edge of the porch.
"Poor thing," she went. "He's caught in a cobweb." She untangled him and let him fly free. And, smiling, looked back to him. Seeing his frown. His frustration. "You don't like lightning bugs?" she asked. "Lightning bugs have wings, too," she reminded him.
"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Well ... that makes you fellows. Like birds of a feather, only ... creatures of a wing," she said, trailing.
Morris sighed, going to the door. Opening it. "Come on," he said.
She grinned and pranced after him.
"Anyway," he said, eyes blinking in the dark. "They're called fireflies, not lightning bugs. No one calls them lightning bugs." He blinked again, seeing where she was going. "Don't," he hissed, "Turn on the lights."
"How come?" she asked, pausing, her paw near the switch. Freezing. And then dropping back down. She walked toward him. "Oh," she said, nodding. Swaying a bit. She smiled. "You like it in the dark? Well, of course, so do I," she said. "I think most creatures do. Though I don't know why," she said, continuing on. "You would think they would wanna see each other, you know? Although, I guess, if you're doing it in the dark ... there is a sort of mystery about it. You know? And it takes away your sight, which could, in theory, enhance your other senses ... in the absence of sight. Like touch, for instance," she said.
"Let's go to the bedroom," he said simply.
"I hope it's not as musty in there," she said, trailing him. "It smells of dust. You really need to vacuum. Or open some windows. Of course, in my experience, dust can get through anything. It's everywhere. Ashes to ashes," she said, as if she were a sage. "Dust to dust."
They were in the bedroom. And he locked the door, leaning back against it. And then taking a step toward her. She smiled, backing away to the bed. Falling to a sit on the edge of the mattress. He chuckled from the throat as they wriggled out of their attire, their fur rubbing, limbs tangling. As they rolled and crawled to the center of the big, bouncy bed.
Morris had made up his mind to bite her during climax. That way, she would be too preoccupied to get away. She wouldn't be able to thwart him. Helpless in her pleasure, she would be helpless to his bite. His love bite. He grinned.
They started kissing, lapping at each other's lips. She lapped at the fangs that were aiming to bite her. That would turn her, too, into a creature of the night. And tonight ... there was a full moon. Though it was hidden behind the clouds. The same clouds giving off the heat lightning. So, it did Morris very little good, but ... he knew it was there. Up there. Somewhere. And, as a result, he felt energized as he began to mate with the deer.
She licked and kissed his nose.
He allowed his fangs to graze her neck, run through the fur ... just to get an idea. But he held himself from biting. Patience, he told himself. Patience.
The deer, legs spread and wrapped around his back, moaned as the bat pushed his pulsing member into her wet, warm muscle, through her furry folds.
"Oh, that's ... that's nice," she breathed. "You know," she started.
The bat didn't want to know. He was panting, grunting. Thrusting into her with a growing speed and lust.
"You know," Sakona repeated, head tilting to the side. "Oh. Oh. You know," she repeated.
"What?" he hissed, wanting her to get on with it. His member parting her and plowing through her, deep into her. She felt so hot. So good. He eyed her neck with madness. That furry, blood-filled neck.
"I've never ... been ... done," she panted, "By a bat. I've ... uh, uh ... oh ... I've been done by a bird," she said. "Uh, uh ... and a ... oh," she breathed. "Oh, a ... a cat. But not ... oh. Oh. A bat."
"That's," he panted. "Nice ... to know." His furry hips were motoring into her. It was heavenly. He sagged, wings going a bit limp at the sensation. The movement. At her legs and hooves wrapped around his back, pulling him down. Squeezing him. Her slender legs were strong. And her sweaty paws clutched at his sides.
"I always ... uh, uh ... thought bats," she continued.
He growled from his throat. Why wouldn't she shut up?
"Bats ... would be light. You're kind of ... mm, mm ... heavy," she breathed. "Oh."
He frowned. I'm not heavy, he thought to himself. He worked out every day. He walked at least a mile a day. Jogged, even. But he shook his head. Realized he was getting distracted from the prize. Or prizes. The first of which ... was to sow his seed into this deer. And, while she reeled from that: bite her neck. Get to her blood. Drink. Oh, the thought ... the thought made him weak, and it made him squeak. He squeaked as he drove into her.
She giggled. "That's cute," she said. "You're ... oh, oh ... squeaks." She giggled. "Squeaks," she said. "Uh, uh ... uh, that's a ... oh ... that's a funny word. Squeaks," she gasped.
He frowned, ignoring her, going faster, faster. Rocking her back. She bucked back against him. They writhed, sweating and panting.
And, feeling her slender, furry legs clamp harder on his back, he knew she was near. And, his member throbbing and to the point of releasing, he panted, drooled, and eyed her neck. And he humped, humped ... growing weary. And, finally, the deer moaned out. Her eyes watered shut, and he felt her spasm, which in turn ... caused him to break. Shooting into her. Spasm after spasm. Spurt after spurt. He whimpered, his nose flaring. Oh, she had a wonderful scent. And, mind hazy, he went for her neck. Opened his mouth wide, and lunged, and ...
She moaned and tilted her head. And he missed. Biting the sheets. He shook his head and growled.
She giggled, eyes still closed. Hearing his growl. "Oh, I liked it, too. You were good. Not the best," she confided, "But good. Better than the bird, but ... well, you're not built like a cat, know what I'm saying?" she said, having apparently regained her breath. Though she was still lightly panting. "Not like, say," she said, open eyes glazing over. She grinned. "Like a jaguar. Or an ocelot."
He glared at her.
"I've had an ocelot. I have pictures," she said, "If you don't believe me." She giggled, as if reminiscing. "Oh, that was fun ... he had an intriguing foreign accent." Sigh. "I never saw him again."
Morris frowned and wriggled out of and away from Sakona. Panting. Furry chest heaving. He spread his wings in exasperation. And then lowered them.
"You seem tense," she observed. "You probably don't get enough sleep. You know, most creatures don't. They underestimate the value of a good night's ... "
"I don't care," he hissed. "I do not," he emphasized, "Care. Just ... just shut up."
She frowned. The first time she'd worn an expression that was anything but happy and bubbly. "That's not nice," she said. She tilted her head, observing him. Her expression neutral. "You are tense. Do you take daily multi-vitamins? You should," she said seriously.
"You know what ... maybe you should go," he told her, sighing.
"I guess," she said.
There was a pause.
She suddenly smiled. "Can't we snuggle? You need a snuggle. That's why you're in a bad mood."
He considered. Maybe if they snuggled ... he could get close enough to bite her. Hell, he might as well just lunge at her now, overpower her, and bite away. But he was too civil for that. It helped his mood if he could get the blood without resistence. Without force. If he could just ... get it. It tasted better that way. It was ... well, he didn't know. He just wanted her neck. Wanted to bite. Bite. I need to bite!
"Okay, we can snuggle," he agreed.
"Let's get some hot cocoa," she exclaimed, leaping from the bed, her bare, furry form gracefully prancing from the room. Searching for the kitchen.
He followed her, sagging. He twitched. "It's warm out," he said. "I'm sweaty. I don't ... I don't want hot cocoa."
"Lemonade?" she asked.
"No, I don't want lemonade."
"What do you want, then?" she said, standing in front of the sink. He entered the kitchen, eyes on her rump. Her tail. Her hips. And up to her neck.
He wanted her blood. He wanted to drink her blood. But he couldn't say that. Though, to be honest, he was amazed she hadn't figured out what he was ... what he intended to do. Either she was truly dense, or she truly didn't care. Or she was toying with him. Whatever the case, it was driving him mad. He needed that drink. That blood. Now.
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms and wings and paws around to her, cupping her furry breasts.
She giggled.
Her eyes were away from him. He went in for the bite. Opened his mouth and ...
"A penny!" She bent down, causing him to bite the air. Again.
"Ow," he muttered, wagging his tongue. Sighing. Having scooted back upon her bending down, her rump having pushed him back a step or two.
"A penny," she repeated, picking it up. Standing back up. "A shiny one. You don't often find shiny pennies. Only dull ones." Her eyes widened. "Can I have it?"
"Whatever," he snapped.
"Hmm. Well, if I keep it, it's almost," she said, lowering her voice to a wide-eyed whisper, "Like you're paying me, you know? For ... you know?"
"It's just a penny."
"Yeah, but still ... I have my principles."
"Do you?" he mocked, looking at her naked, furry body.
She shrugged.
He stared at her. At her neck.
"Oh, my gosh," she suddenly said, looking at his clock. "I gotta run," she said, scampering back to the bedroom, emerging with her clothes, which she hopped and wriggled into. "It's after midnight, you know."
"Yeah," she said, sighing.
"Anyway, you rocked," she said. "And you're adorable when you squeak."
He rolled his eyes.
"Bye," she said, sprinting out the door.
Morris growled, spinning around. One bite. One bite. That's all he had wanted. And, the night now morning, he was at ... no bites. He sighed. Stalking to the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator, and pulling out some tomatoes. Sucking them dry. Damn deer. He sighed as he sucked the tomato juice. He would go back to the bar tomorrow and try again.
And no one bubbly next time. He hated bubbly. He frowned. Considering. Saying aloud, "Who the hell drinks ginger ale?"