This Month’s Theme: “Love and Lust”

With Valentine’s Day as February’s centerpiece, it’s only fitting to address the topic of romance. And yes, romance means sex; after all, without physical intimacy, the relationship is just “best friends.” Sure, you can be asexual and deeply in love, but I’m looking for an excuse to tell you that this month’s column is ADULTS ONLY. Relax, it won’t read like a book of porn stories… or will it? I suppose that depends on your imagination.

“Forbidden Love”
Supernatural
By David M. Fitzpatrick

She was a vampire. He was a werewolf. Contrary to popular mythology, the two breeds weren’t at war; rather, they were kindred spirits in that they both fed on humans. Vamps and weres were often acquaintances, and it was not unheard of for them to hunt together.

Yet they were never really friends, and they certainly never fell in love. Romance was considered by both breeds to be a step too far. But the heart has its own considerations, and She and He couldn’t help it when they fell in love. They knew they wouldn’t be accepted, so they loved in secret. They made love by moonlight, heating up the cold darkness with otherworldly orgasms fueled by nibbling fangs and scraping claws and superhuman strength.

Ultimately, They were discovered, and there was much discord on both sides. The elders of the vamps and weres could never condone the union, but nobody had experience handling such a situation.

“You are not a vampire,” the joint elders told Him, “and you are not a werewolf,” they told Her. “This relationship cannot be supported. You will go your separate ways, or we will destroy you—you, run through with silver; and you, staked before the rising sun.”

They were given one last night together, but they knew it could never be their last. And they knew they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives running from certain doom.

It was simple, really. Just a bite from Him, and She was infected with lycanthropy. And then She bled Him until He was near death, and then gave Him some of Her blood. The transition was far more difficult and painful than for mortals, but when it was over, They’d satisfied the elders’ rules: They were werevamps, unique and alone.

But alone together, for eternity. And that was just fine with them.

“Immoral Character”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Jayna loved her four partners, and they loved her. It wasn’t a relationship of just sex; it was very real.

She’d met Daryl on a space cruise to the Eagle Nebula. By the time they were circling the Spire, they were giggling like teenagers; by the time they were arcing around the Pillars of Creation, they’d kissed for the first time. And as the cruise ship soared across a whirling disc around a newborn star, they made love while bathed in a cosmic rainbow. It was wondrous, the most joyous thing either had ever experienced.

They first experimented sexually while on a trip to the planet Bectar. It wasn’t planned, but when they met Zordius, they both fell in love with him/her. The orange-furred Bectarians were dual-sexed humanoids who didn’t wear clothes, so it was partially a physical reaction; Jayna saw his/her impressive organ, and Daryl couldn’t stop ogling his/her four softly furred breasts.

It would have just been harmless attraction, but they struck up a conversation that lasted for hours, helped by Bectarian polarberry wine—and games of Bectarian dartball, which involved a moving target and lots of running and jumping. Jayna’s horniness watching Zordius’ flopping organ and Daryl’s watching bouncing breasts had them squirming. When Daryl whispered that perhaps they could all spend the night together, Jayna agreed. It was great sex at first, but after a week together, there was no denying the romance. Zordius left Bectar to be with his/her new mates. For two years they traveled the galaxy as lovers.

But one day, on the planet Mekzon, they met their fourth. Mekzon was populated by sentient machines in many forms, but Quebulon was modeled after humanoids. He appeared human, but the android’s glowing green eyes and blinking lights at his temples gave him away. Quebulon was anatomically male, and something of a Casanova who wooed Jayna until she blushed. Daryl was amused and Zordius confused, but eventually they all ended up in bed together. It was a wild night, and although Quebulon had engaged in sex with many in his time, he admitted he’d never felt true love for biological life forms—until then.

Their fifth came two years later, when they met Uleea on Dolyax Five during a jungle safari. They mistook her for an animal at first, which was understandable since Uleea was a six-limbed, two-tailed female primate just four feet tall. She moved through the trees in a high-speed, blue-skinned, acrobatic show that had them all amazed. When they discovered she was intelligent, they became fast friends—so good that when they were preparing to leave a week later, Uleea cried and begged them to stay or take her with them. So they explained their relationship; Uleea was intrigued, and wanted to join.

Thus became the five-member partnership. Sex was always astounding, whether with just two of them or more or the whole family. And when the whole family was, it was pretty wild. But the key word was “family”; occasionally they adventured with other sexual partners, but no more were invited in. That was the difference between “just sex” and “love.”

One day, Daryl suggested they all get married. There was much discussion, and it was decided they’d be officially married in each of their respective cultures. First they journeyed to Dolyax Five and were married in the treetop house of Uleea’s ancestral family, with great celebration. Then they voyaged to Mekzon and were married according to the Code of Logic the machines embraced. After, they traveled to Bectar, where a three-day ceremony involving lots of Bectarian whisky and plenty of Bectarian dartball.

Finally, they returned to Earth to make their union official under Earth laws. They visited the municipal office in Jayna’s home city, where they were given an application listing all the marital partners. After they filled it out, the official looked it over—and rejected it.

“But why?” Jayna asked.

“This union would be illegal,” the official said.

“But any number of partners is legal in a marriage,” said Daryl.

“And it’s legal to marry aliens,” said Jayna.

“And it’s legal to marry artificial life forms,” Daryl added.

“So why can’t we be married?” Jayna asked.

“Because five partners and two aliens and an android is clearly immoral,” said the official, “and why the law expressly forbids it.”

“This is outrageous!” Jayna cried. “We’ll fight this.”

“Good luck,” the official sneered. “Others have tried for a hundred years. Multiples, aliens, androids, or any combination of those—but not all three. It’s just common sense. We must be a moral compass here to protect the rights of decent people! Otherwise, people will start marrying their pets, and the sanctity of marriage will be destroyed.”

The five lovers left together, resolving to fight nonetheless, for the principle of the issue and for their rights. But in the meantime they at least had what mattered: true love, as only the five of them could understand.

And it wasn’t really anyone else’s job to try to understand it.

“Parting the Lips”
Dark Fantasy
By David M. Fitzpatrick

He was terrified, but she was so beautiful. She smiled with full, pouty lips, gleaming bright red lipstick and brilliant white teeth in the flickering firelight.

“Kiss me,” she said—teasing, seductive, inviting, intimidating. She moved closer, smiling wider, parting those lips. Her teeth awaited. He was scared.

“It’s part of the agreement,” she said. “My mother worked with your mother for weeks on the agreement. We’re to be joined.”

“I know,” he said, his voice trembling. He felt cold sweat everywhere.

She frowned, feigning a sad look. “You don’t like what you see?”

He eyeballed her again. Swelling breasts begged to burst through her tight blouse. She had a slender waist and shapely hips. The static-laden skirt clung to her crotch, tantalizing him with the hint of her mound. She was so close he could feel her body heat—and he was sure he could smell her sex. He wanted to be inside her so badly… but how could he not be terrified?

“I love what I see,” he finally said.

“Then make love to me,” she cooed. “Once we’re joined, you’re legally entitled to it—anytime. That’s my duty to you. And you give me obedience. That’s the way it’s been for so long. Now, it’s time for you to slide inside me and make it all legal.”

He felt his manhood hardening. She glanced down and smiled in approval, then met his eyes. She moved in, puckering up, and he fell into her arms. Her lips sent an electric thrill coursing through his body. He mashed his lips against hers, felt her breasts crush against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him passionately. His erection raged as she rubbed her abdomen against it.

“I know you’re afraid,” she whispered through the passionate kiss. “I understand—I would be if I were a man.”

“The idea of being inside you… it’s a bit… unnerving,” he said.

“If you’re good to me, it will never be a problem,” she purred. “Now, kiss me again. And slide your tongue inside. It will be like… practice.”

She kissed him, and he tentatively snaked his tongue between her lips. She grabbed it with suction and drew him inside. His heart pounded as he her teeth raked it slightly. Then she sucked it deeper, released, and sucked again, until his tongue was sliding in and out of her mouth, stroked by lips and threatened by teeth, in copulating fashion.

She released his tongue and pulled away. “Now remove your clothes and take me,” she said, commanding as any good woman should be.

He shed his clothing, watching as she did the same. He was naked first, his manhood at attention. She slowly peeled off her clothing, teasing with every moment, until she was naked, and laid back on the bed with a come-hither smile. His eyes traveled from her beautiful face to her plump breasts, then down her smooth skin to the triangle of hair between her legs. His heart beat faster. He didn’t know if he could do it.

“Come to me,” she directed.

With that, she parted her thighs. Now he saw that other set of lips, also parting slightly. She scooted back on the pillows, spread her legs wider, and reached down with her fingers to spread herself, offering herself to him.

And he saw inside her.

He’d heard about it, knew it was true, but somehow seeing it was different. Beyond her inner labia, he saw the dual rows of interlocked canine teeth. He felt his blood go cold, felt his penis deflate. She giggled as she pulled her lips wider, and he saw her work her muscles. The vaginal teeth opened wide, like a grinning vampire, and beyond were her tight inner folds. He experienced the bizarre feeling of wanting to be inside her and wanting anything but being inside her.

“It’s time,” she said, firm but smiling.

He felt his penis finish shrinking. “I don’t think I can,” he croaked.

Her face darkened, the smile vanishing. “This isn’t a request,” she said. “We have a marriage agreement. You’re mine. Now get inside me.”

He climbed between her legs, and she reached down, finding his frightened member. Her hot fingers worked magic and managed to revive it; she pulled him inside, and he closed his eyes as he felt the warmth enclose him. Then she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him all the way in. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt.

And then, arms and legs around him, he felt her teeth bite down on his shaft. He sucked in his breath, snapped his eyes open. He thought she’d broken his skin. She looked up with icy blue eyes.

“Don’t ever forget that feeling,” she said. “The agreement means I obey your sexual requests. But you obey me otherwise. Disobey me, cheat on me, lie to me… and I’ll bite it off.”

And then the teeth retracted, and she began to move her hips, and it felt perfect again. He collapsed into her embrace and began to move in and out of her.

But he couldn’t get that feeling out of his mind, even as she whispered her love for him in his ear.

“Lessons in True Love”
Fantasy
By David M. Fitzpatrick

They were nine when they met. Kyra was a pretty girl with alabaster skin, cascading yellow curls, the brightest blue eyes, and an infectious giggle that was like tinkling bells. And Jack was in love with her from the day her family moved to the village. They were inseparable best friends for years, falling deeper and deeper into a love that didn’t understand romance or sexuality.

By the time they were sixteen, their fiercely raging hormones overcame them. One day in a secluded forest clearing, they gave in to their urges, lost in physical intimacy and the overwhelming power of the sex act. But it wasn’t just hormones and animalistic sex; it was lovemaking of the highest order.

The next day, after excitedly talking about planning a wedding, they couldn’t resist doing it again. They returned to the forest, kissing where they’d made love the day before. Jack prepared to untie Kyra’s dress, and in their passion they never saw the old witch from the hills, who had happened upon them. She cackled crazily, and they pulled away from each other in embarrassment.

“Ah, young lust,” the wrinkled hag croaked. “Don’t mind me, sonny. Take her right here, and let me watch.”

Kyra shrieked in revulsion, and Jack darted ahead to confront the witch. “Begone, wicked old woman!”

“Wicked?” the hag said, her face darkening. “Watch your tongue; my magic is strong. Now on to your fucking, boy, and give me a thrill.”

“Magic indeed!” Jack said, invincible as teenage boys always think they are. “I say you’re just an evil old hag and nothing more!”

The witch stepped forward, her face ever darker. “Doubt my power, do you?” she sneered. “Let me show you how evil I am.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of nowhere, uncapped it, and spoke arcane words. And then she tipped the bottle forward—and blue fire erupted from its mouth, engulfing Kyra. The girl shrieked once, briefly, and Jack hollered as he reached for her. But his hands found an impenetrable shield in the blue fire surrounding her frozen form.

And just as suddenly, the blue glow was gone. Jack looked on, stunned, at Kyra. She was forever frozen, her body and clothing now made entirely of stone.

“What have you done?” Jack cried.

“She’s stone, boy!” the witch said, grinning with rotted teeth as she tossed the empty bottle to the ground. “No rutting for you until you respect me!”

Jack screamed in rage and charged, and he wrapped his hands around the hag’s throat. He crushed her windpipe as he shook her frail body madly, like a scarecrow, until she was dead.

Then he waited for the spell to wear off.

* * *

Jack built his house there, around Kyra’s stone form to protect her. As the years passed, wizards came from afar to investigate. Each told Jack the same thing: With the witch dead, the spell might last a long time—maybe forever.

Jack became a master furniture craftsman, and his wares were sought from far and wide. But he lived like a pauper, always saving his money until he could afford another wizard who might undo the spell. Each was more experienced, and more costly, than the last, but none could dispel the magic.

Jack only had hope, and that he could gaze upon her stone face every day, and imagine a time when it would be flesh again. It was sixty years to the day when the spell wore off.

Jack was in his seventies, his health failing, when Kyra finally moved. He was in the living room on that rainy day, and he came to his feet as the statue glowed blue and Kyra’s sweet face came back to life, screaming as she had been the day the witch had turned her. She looked at the wrinkled and stooped old man, stunned.

“It’s me,” Jack said. “It’s Jack.”

“I know it’s you,” the young girl said. “I’d know you anywhere. But what happened?”

“It’s been sixty years,” he said, tears streaming down his leathery cheeks. “So long… I only hoped to see you once more before I died. Now I can go, knowing you’ll live your life.”

She came to him. “But you can’t die. We’re to be married.”

“I’m just an old man now,” he said.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said, and she came into his arms to hold him. He wept, and she cried with him. They held each other for many long minutes, and when they separated, she cupped his face in her hands and pulled his lips to hers. They kissed, like they had so long before.

And the blue fire suddenly engulfed them. They tried to separate but the magic was a wall of force. Beyond the azure cyclone, the living room vanished; the trees beyond became visible, and the gray and rainy day gave way to a sunny blue sky.

Kyra sucked in her breath. “Jack—you’re young again!”

He felt his own face, beheld his young hand. They stared at each other, dumbfounded.

“What does it mean?” she whispered.

“It means,” came the cackling voice of the witch, “that your love is true after all.”

They spun about, and she stood in the clearing. The empty bottle was on the ground before her.

“I thought you were just insolent children screwing in the woods,” the hag said. “Thought I’d scare you, maybe get a little thrill myself. But it seems I was wrong.”

The old witch turned and hobbled off. She reached the edge of the clearing and turned back. “It’s rare to undo such a spell so completely,” she said. “Only the truest love could accomplish that.”

And in a puff of smoke, she was gone.

The thing was, neither Jack nor Kyra needed such a spell to prove their love to them. They already knew it.

They made love again, right there, where their house would soon be.

David M. Fitzpatrick is a fiction writer in Maine, USA. His many short-stories have appeared in print magazines and anthologies around the world. He writes for a newspaper, writes fiction, edits anthologies and teaches creative writing. Visit him at www.fitz42.net/writer to learn more.