SCREED'S BAD SLASH ADVENTURE
by Libby Singleton

Permission granted to archive to the Jadfe website. All others must ask first.

DISCLAIMER: The Unnamed Faction is having a bad slash challenge.  Blame them 
and be very thankful I don't own these characters.  Let's hope my publishers 
don't find this story. Of course it hasn't been beta-read.

    "Why... can't... I... be... on... top?" Nick whined his whine between 
gasps of pleasure.  He wore his best angst expression despite the force of 
his master's thrusting, gigantic throbbing manhood.

    "Because I'm much too old and powerful to be a bottom man," LaCroix 
sneered, disengaging himself from the younger vampire's backside.  He slapped 
it. Hard. Nick yelped, rolling over to sit gingerly on his pillow.  "In 
fact," LaCroix continued, "since you do not appreciate my fucking, and the 
nearly 2000 years experience, which goes with it, I am leaving."

    "LaCroix, wait!!!!" Nick cried. "I'm all hard!" But it was too late. 
LaCroix was gone taking his erect monster of a swollen biological sword with 
him.  The vampire detective grabbed his tarot deck from his nightstand, then 
went downstairs where he stretched out in front of the unlit fire place and 
randomly tossed the cards in the air while working up the angst of all angsty 
displays.  However, he quickly decided that was no fun without an audience 
plus his still engaged groin area was really beginning to ache.  So he went 
out to find LaCroix.

    By the time he reached The Raven, the approaching dawn had chased away 
the undead clientele.  "LaCroix?" Nick called out.  "LaCroix, are you here?"

    "Hi, Nick!" Urse replied.  "I haven't seen him but you are welcome to 
check his rooms."

    The blonde haired male vampire nodded, self-consciously covering the 
tell-all bulge in front of his trousers with his hands..  "Thanks."  He 
knocked on his master's chamber doors, entering even though he heard no 
reply. Entering, of course meaning walking into the room, not entering his 
master which he very well couldn't do without LaCroix.  "Are you here?" Nick 
said, unzipping his pants hoping to stop some of the pain radiating from his 
wee wee which had been pushing hard against the metal fastener.  "Come on, 
this isn't the time for hide and seek.  I'm in pain!"

    "Then why na take the matter h'in ya h'own ‘and, eh?"  Screed popped up 
from the other side of LaCroix's bed.

    Nick started to fly across the room to force the carouche against the 
wall, but his pants slipped down around his ankles and he tripped.  "And go 
blind?"  Unable to untangle his feet from his trousers, the blonde vampire 
removed the pants totally before standing up fully erect - in more ways than 
one.

    Screed stared at the angsty vampire's nether region hungrily.  The bald, 
rat eating vampire licked his lips.  "Blind? Ol' wives tale, tha' un."

    "Not when LaCroix's involved," Nick explained.  "He told me if I ever 
jacked off without letting him watch, he'd put my eyes out... But that's not 
the problem.  He always wants on top.  I'm sure I could be a top man, too, if 
he'd only teach me how!"  The vampire detective looked away.  "He... he left 
out certain aspects of my training."

    "Ass-pects, ya say, Dick-lick-a-ble Knight?  H'all h'it takes is a bit o' 
butt-thumpin' wit' the sunnyside h'up wot ta catch h'on - an' I've been 
wankered by buggers more poofy than ya."

    Nick felt a hand on his shoulder and looked over into Screed's eyes.  
"Are you saying you'll...."  The carouche grinned invitingly and Nick found 
himself unfastening Screed's clothing.  Properly de-trousered, the 
800-year-old blood drinker spun the bald headed former sailor turned pest 
exterminator around.  He stared momentarily at the formerly white and once 
theoretically clean boxer shorts with the Forever Knight logo cross stitched 
across the bum.  "Isn't that a copyright violation?" Nick asked as he yanked 
them down to Screed's ankles.

    "No more then this h'entire sex-nerio."  The carouche dropped to all 
fours, peering over his shoulders with a wink of an eye at Nick's own 
winky-dink.  His bare butt cheeks parted slightly, invitingly, when Screed 
moved his knees apart.  "There's a full moon h'on the rise, eh?  Well, dew 
the deed, matie! Ya waitin' fer a formal fancy type o' printed invite? No 
need wot ta RSVP.  Dontcha know rats kin dew the deed ‘undreds o' times h'an 
‘our?  Ride ol' Screed ta meet yar needs!"

    And that's exactly what Nick did. Over and over until his manhood was as 
raw as the leather strap LaCroix often applied to his back.  He howled a howl 
with each climax that nearly, though not quite, rivaled Screed's squeals.  He 
howled until his throat was a raw as his throbbing, very large, very tired 
boytoy, then he howled some more.  This continued for hours which seemed to 
be centuries of pleasure ... at least until the bedroom door fell in, nearly 
missing the humping humpers.  Nick immediately stopped his thumping and tried 
to roll away, but LaCroix caught him with one hand and lifted him off the 
floor.

    "What is going on here?"

    Screed looked up, grinning from ear to ear.  "H'it's been a hard day's 
Knight, and Oi've been working loik a dog."

--finished-

 

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