Date Night With Dracula

“I invited you to come inside,” I told him, waving the condom at him, “Not come inside.”

I’m starting a new series of smutty little shorts called “Date With A Monster,” where headboards go bump in the night. Check out the corresponding memes and playlists on my instagram, @literarypros, and subscribe to this substack to get these stories and more directly to your inbox!

Content Warnings: this is an erotic short story, including mentions of monstrous features, abilities, and appendages. All characters involved are enthusiastically consenting. This particular story includes heterosexual intercourse, mentions of protection and safewords, some physical discomfort after multiple orgasms, praise, and an age gap of several centuries, where the younger woman is in her thirties. If I failed to include something important in this content warning, you can fill out this form to let me know.

Vampires needed permission to enter, and Dracula was doing his very best to earn an invitation. The Big Bad himself, the vampire of all vampires, was on his knees on my welcome mat proving that real fangs did not leave people tongue-tied the way fake Halloween ones did. The heavy silver ring on my finger (just in case) was biting into my lip where I had my hand clamped over my mouth to muffle any of my moans from disturbing the neighbors. I was very aware that despite how late it was, anyone on my floor could turn the corner at any moment and see me pressed up against my door with my leg hooked over Dracula’s shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to make me stop him. It wasn’t every day you got a guy with centuries of experience between your legs—I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

Long pale fingers slid over the front of my red dress, up my belly to rest on my chest, just slightly to the left. The other hand gripping my thigh dug in hard enough to leave a bruise as he groaned into my pussy. Oh. My heartbeat. I would’ve said something, would’ve made sure this was the only part of me he wanted to eat since I definitely wasn’t a blood-donation-on-a-first-date kind of girl, but there was something slick and unfamiliar coating his tongue that stole all of my common sense. Dracula had explained it over (my) dinner, how vampires stayed a secret, how they healed the puncture wounds of their fangs with a special protein-rich venom on their tongues. How it made the feeding process not completely horrifying and uncomfortable. A gentle, temporary high, he’d said.

It did not feel gentle on my clit.

As he toyed with it, rolling it around with the tip of his coated tongue, lapping at the hyper-sensitive underside, I fought off a fourth orgasm in a shockingly short amount of time. I was going to die. He was trying to kill me. The only reason I was even upright was because of his pale hands and his inhumanly strong shoulders holding me up. His tongue was slippery like good lube, soft like new silicone, fizzy like soda, and I was going to die. Was this how undeath happened? Pleasure that transcended mortality? I didn’t want to live forever but god, did I want to feel this way for eternity.

Dracula hummed, his spread fingers flexing over my heart, and I could tell I was in for it. I gripped the back of that hand for some kind of support and tried to breathe, tried to stay calm, tried not to lose–

The fangs that had been clamped on either side of my clit pulled back, allowing all the blood he’d been summoning with his mouth to rush in. It was so acute, so perfectly on the edge of pain and pleasure as if he’d found a way to mimic the line he straddled between life and death, that I came harder than I ever had in my life. The orgasm was like a punch to the gut, driving all the air out of me with one barely-muffled shriek. My hips writhed and shook, the orgasm drawn out by the gentle, dizzy strokes of his tongue. My legs gave out and this time he let me slide down the door and collapse into his lap. 

Dracula chuckled as I shook in his arms, still coming without any stimulation. My muscles cramped and tears slid down my face, dripping onto my fingers still covering my mouth. Cool fingers plucked them away as an equally cool forehead pressed to mine. The less-than-human temp had turned me off at first when he’d taken my hand on the walk back to my apartment, but now it was relief against my fevered skin. Orgasming four times in a leather trench coat and matching thigh-high boots was like getting fucked in a boiler room. I struggled out of my coat with clumsy hands and wrapped my noodly body around him to cool me off. 

His kiss was strange with the fangs but not unpleasant. When he slipped his tongue between my lips, I sucked on it in gratitude for the pleasure it’d just given me until he groaned against my mouth. The slightly unearthly sound of it shivered through my body, probably some sort of survival instinct that I was too stupid to listen to. I wanted to hear more. I wanted his pleasure. I wanted to drive such a powerful creature to the brink. 

“Inside,” I gasped against his mouth, unsure if I meant my apartment or my body. “I want you inside.”

My ears picked up the sound of papers fluttering off surfaces and my hair fluttered as I was dropped onto my bed. As I stared up into hungry red eyes, I heard my front door on the other end of the apartment click shut behind us. I didn’t even feel him pick me up.

“Holy shit!”

Pearly, inhumanly white fangs flashed at me in a dangerously charming smile. “Scared?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that like your kink? Because I don’t remember discussing safewords.”

Dracula’s smile transformed into something a lot less suspicious as he said, “I just like to hear your heart racing.”

“Well there’s no reason to be creepy about it,” I told him sternly to mask the quivery what have I gotten myself into?! feeling. “Sexy heart racing good, scared heart racing bad.”

“Forgive me,” he crooned as he leveraged over me on the bed. “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” I whispered as I gripped his face and pulled his lips down to mine.

We kissed until the edge of anxiety at being tossed around by something so much stronger and faster than me faded and the languid pleasure of multiple orgasms against my front door began to bubble into new hunger. Dracula half-climbed onto the bed, wedging his hips between my thighs until my legs wrapped around them. His hands mapped my body under my dress while mine slid into hair soft as smoke between my fingers. We kissed until I couldn’t breathe, and then until I didn’t want to ever breathe again.

My red mini-dress began to inch up my thighs and then over my hips from the way he was grinding against where I was so sensitive and well-used already, until I got fed up and started tugging it over my head. Dracula wasn’t panting when he pulled back enough to give me room to fling it aside, but his laugh sounded breathless as he watched me in wonder. Which is how I realized he hadn’t been breathing the whole time we were kissing. I busied myself with unhooking the many latches of my bustier-style bra so I didn’t think too hard about that. As I watched, his chest only moved before he spoke. 

“I love women of this age,” he told me as I tossed aside my bra and arched my back prettily to let him take in his fill of me naked beneath him.

“Young? Unwrinkled? Tits still a little perky?” My tits were getting pretty close to un-perky and I was officially monitoring my hair for my first grays, but thanks to modern skincare I probably looked better than most women my age had over the centuries he’d been alive. Dead. Whatever.

“I mean this era,” he said to my nipples. “This age of technology and freedom.”

A cool finger alighted on my pulse in my throat, tracing the veins I knew must be under the skin he caressed down from my neck and chest until he reached my heart.

“It used to take months, even years, to get such an invitation from a woman. And even longer for her to be so forthright and confident about it.”

His hand slid up to cup my left breast, a thumb swiping across my nipple, making goosebumps break out over my skin.

“Are you calling me easy?”

“I’m calling you mesmerizing,” he breathed as he tipped his head down to my breast. “Powerful. Free.”

His cool, slippery mouth wrapped around my nipple, sending that same fizzy coke feeling through my body when his tongue lapped at it. He sucked until I was gasping and squirming beneath him, then he sucked on the other nipple until I came with a surprised cry. I shook around the strange, almost empty feeling of an orgasm without any genital stimulation. Almost as soon as the quick orgasm passed, I was desperate for another, more substantial one. 

“Clothes off,” I gasped, pushing against his completely immovable chest. It felt like pushing against a wooden door–there was just enough give for it not to be stone, but certainly more impenetrable than any human skin. I thought about the beautiful glass dildo I’d bought on impulse that was now collecting dust as a bookend because trying to put something that solid inside me had been uncomfortable. I was going to need a lot of lube to take a vampire cock if his skin felt this rigid.

“Bring me my purse?” I asked as Dracula straightened and shucked off his black suit jacket.

He moved with human speed over to where my coat and previously removed panties were draped over the back of a chair and picked up my yellow purse hanging there as well. I became very aware as my ceiling fan stirred the air that I was completely naked except the thigh high leather boots. It felt silly, like wearing sneakers with only a bikini on, but I knew it had to be pretty to look at, so I spread my thighs to frame where I was pink and wet in black leather. Dracula–the Dracula–stumbled.

I took the purse from him as he silently handed it over while making eye contact with my clit and smirked. “Your clothes?” I reminded him sweetly.

He swallowed and began to undress. I rummaged around my purse by feel as I drank in the sight of a man so beautiful he’d been immortally enshrined in undeath and popular culture. Bela Lugosi had been handsome, but he had nothing on the original recipe. My fingers caught on the small bottle of lube I always carried in my purses for unexpectedly pleasant first dates and dropped it beside me on the bed, then went hunting for the condom I’d picked for tonight.

It was my turn to silently hand over my purse as I drank in the sight of a deliciously hard and naked Dracula. Wow. Undeath sure looked good on him. I wondered if he’d looked this good as a human or if vampirism made people hotter.

“Shall I remove these?” he asked, running his hands over my boots.

“Most guys usually want to leave them on.”

“I want to feel your skin,” his fingers slipped beneath the tacky top of the boots that kept them from sliding down my thighs and carefully peeled them off. “Your heat.”

When they were on the floor, I slid backwards on my bed until my head reached the pillows so I could discreetly rub off the sweat that had collected on the back of my knees. He could probably smell it with his super vamp senses or whatever, but it would make me feel better to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

I watched him prowl across the bed after me, looking distinctly inhuman with that hungry look in his red eyes. It made me wet. I gripped my nipples to relieve the edgy ache in them, earning an appreciative rumble from him. He spread my thighs with his hands, opening me wide for him. He looked at my pussy like he was ready to shove in just like that, so I quickly held out the condom I’d opened already.

“I invited you to come inside,” I told him, waving the latex at him, “Not come inside.”

I expected some sort of argument, like that a vampire couldn’t get me pregnant, but all he said was a bewildered, “Yellow?”

I threw my arms over my head, which I knew made my tits look nice, and said lazily, “Always match your eyeshadow to your accessories.”

His gaze flicked up to the bright yellow at the corners of my eyes and he shook his head with a snort. I watched him slide the condom over his completely reasonable length and perfectly thick girth and giggled at the stark contrast between the colorless white skin of his hand slicking lube over himself and the yellow latex. It didn’t normally look so silly when I did this.

“Does this make me your accessory now?”

“Honey, you’ve been an accessory to my outfit all night.”

We were both laughing as he slid inside.

“Oh wow,” I breathed against his lips as he made room for himself inside me.

“So tight,” he groaned into my hair. “I can feel your heartbeat around me.”

“Make it race,” I begged, wrapping my legs and arms around him.

We kissed as Dracula obliged, fucking me into the bed with a kind of ferocity and stamina that stole my breath and had me once against contemplating my mortality. He found that stroke, almost more like a nudge inside me, that had him rubbing me where I was most sensitive on the inside and outside. And like the attentive partner he’d been all night, asking me questions about my passions and hobbies over dinner and walking on the street side of the sidewalk as he escorted me home, he noticed the little catch in my breath and the tightening of my muscles and he did it just. like. that. until I was once against shattering in his arms. The rigid length of him inside me felt strange to helplessly clamp down on as I orgasmed the first time, but by the time he had me flat on my belly with my overwhelmed tears dripping onto the sheets, it felt completely normal. Completely perfect.

“No more,” I rasped as Dracula withdrew, ready to roll me into another new position. 

My whole body ached and I was so cock drunk I could barely keep my eyes open. If he asked me my name in that moment, I wouldn’t have known how to answer. The only name I knew was the one I’d been moaning, begging, praising for hours at this point.

“Need another water break?” the tireless fiend asked, pressing a cool kiss to my overheated shoulder.

I nodded into the bed, unable to raise my head or speak anymore. I lay where he left me like a blood-drained corpse as he went to the kitchen to refill my water cup for the third or fourth time. The man was a fucking machine. As in, he fucked me like one of those mechanical contraptions in porn that pushed women so far they became mindless, helpless, desperate victims of their own bodies’ capacities for pleasure. It was the best sex of several lifetimes, and if he ever asked to turn me I would say yes in a heartbeat. Hell, if he asked to just fuck me to death, I would say yes.

Gentle hands coaxed me into cold arms, holding a cup to my lips. I drank gustily, far beyond the point of being embarrassed by the gulping sounds I made. When I was done, I dropped my sweat-soaked head back against his shoulder behind me, reveling in the feeling of his cool chest against my back. Chilly arms wrapped around my feverish torso, like being hugged by a dripping ice pack. For a while, we sat like that in companionable silence only interrupted by my slowing breaths, enjoying each other's presence and touch. The lack of movement in his chest was a little unsettling, but I was too fuck-addled to think too hard about it. My brain had just started to swim back to the surface of the lake of pleasure chemicals he’d drowned it in when cool lips pressed against my throat and his hands began to touch hungrily rather than soothingly. 

“No more,” I mewled again.

“One more,” he murmured. “Just one more, please?”

His hands were gentle on my chafed nipples, but still my back arched at the electric sensation of his touch. 

“I want to feel your heartbeat while I come.”

I obeyed the command in his fingers under my chin to turn my face to accept his drugging kiss even as I whined, “No more orgasms.”

“One more,” he begged, but it sounded a lot more like a gentle command. “I’ll do the work. I just need you to come one more time for me.”

I moaned in protest but I was already arching into his touch as he plucked my nipples softly. I didn’t fight when he pulled me back with him, draping me across his body, back still to his chest.

“One more,” he breathed into my ear as he hooked his knees between my thighs and used his legs to part mine and pin me open. “Please. Just one more.”

His hands roamed over my chest, belly, and thighs as he waited for my permission. It felt strange to have all of my weight resting back against someone like they were a mattress, but also freeing to not have to worry about the space I took up. I was so busy working on unclenching all the muscles that were trying to somehow hold me off of him in case my weight was too much, that I didn’t notice at first that he was ramping me back up again. His touch moved closer and closer to touching my pussy with each caress, teasing me with it until my hips arched up to his hands in entreaty.

“One more,” I mewled pitifully.

“So brave,” he praised me in hushed tones as he notched himself once again to my entrance. “So strong. You’ve given me such a gift.”

Dracula parted swollen flesh with the firm head of his cock, making both of us moan as he pushed into my well-used body. I was a mess of lube and my own arousal where his fingers traced my lips clinging to his cock. I dug my nails into his arms, as if to stop him from using his hands to extract more pleasure from me even while I was desperate for it. The hand not touching between my legs slid over my belly to press against my ribcage, pinning me on top of him by my heart.

“Shhh,” he soothed as he slowly stroked in and out of me. “Just be strong a little while longer for me. I’ll make you come soon, I promise.”

I couldn’t fight against the strength of my body’s complete lack of self-preservation when it came to pleasure, so I settled bonelessly on top of him, letting my arms hang down off his sides. 

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he crooned. “Let me make you feel good.”

My toes curled as the tempo of his thrusts from beneath me increased. So much power, so much stamina. I moaned at the first brush of his fingers on my clit, and within minutes he picked up one of my limp hands to drape over my mouth to muffle the sounds for my poor neighbors. I found the energy to lift the other one so I could lace my fingers with his over my heart. This was only a first date, but I was pretty sure I’d give it to him if he asked. He could rip it right out of my chest and I’d die happy watching him lick the blood from his fingers. Or he could just call me sweet and brave a few more times and put a couple holes in my throat, and it would be his for eternity. 

“That’s it,” he groaned as my body began to twitch with an impending orgasm. “You feel so good around me, darling. Tighten on me just like that, yes! You’re going to make me come.”

I made desperate sounds behind my hand in time with the slap of his hips against my ass. I was going to come again. I couldn’t come again. It was too much and I never wanted it to stop. If I could’ve formed words, I would’ve begged him to slow down, and then ordered him to ignore anything I told him to do. To not stop, not slow down, not change a single fucking thing about the perfect pace of his thrusts and excruciating touch on my clit. My consciousness was spiraling down some sort of drain at the exact pace of his fingers rubbing circles on the sensitized flesh, the edges of my vision going black as a bright white light of pleasure barreled down on me. Was this the light at the end of the tunnel people talked about? Was I dying? What a perfect way to go.

“Your pulse,” Dracula gasped, his fingers moving even faster. “Your pulse. Oh, I’m coming!”

The echoey quality of his moan, as if it was coming all the way from inside his tomb, tossed me over the edge. I had one moment to enjoy the sound of my own moans harmonizing with his, feel the hard jerk of his cock inside me that matched the rhythmic pull of my pussy coaxing his pleasure from him, then the white light eclipsed everything and was quickly swallowed by blackness…

I woke up to a gentle cold kiss on my forehead and a murmured, “Wake up, darling. It’s almost dawn. I have to go and you have to lock the door behind me.”

“You can’t just do that with magic or something?”

“No, despite what the movies and books say, I don’t have any sort of telekinesis,” he said wryly as he put on his shoes. “I also don’t turn into a bat.”

I sat up with a yawn and got out of bed. “What about sleeping in coffins?”

“Why don’t you get dinner with me next Saturday and find out for yourself?”

I slanted him a look over my shoulder as I grabbed a t-shirt from my drawers. “Very smooth. How many centuries did you practice that for?”

He laughed. “No comment.”

As I walked him through my apartment at a human pace this time, I noticed a distinct lack of soreness anywhere in my body. After the super marathon of orgasms he’d just put me through, I’d expect to feel rode hard and put away wet. Instead I just felt sleepy and well-fucked in a good way, not an achey way. That venom protein stuff on his tongue was a hell of a drug. Someone should be studying it for medical uses.

“So… Saturday?” Dracula asked hopefully, reminding me that even with the magic spit and insane stamina and blood drinking, he was still just a guy. 

I leaned into the kiss he was already lowering his head for. “It’s a date.”