Category: Flash

Flash: Death Wish Part 2 – Nothing Fits

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature (Language)

The shower’s water and my blood were fighting each other as they ran down the drain. Water trying to follow natural forces and move one way, and my very unnatural blood running counter to how the world should work. The red froth gave me something to stare at in the shower other than my friend’s shampoo and his kids’ bath toys. I wished I still had tears to cry.

Rod’s was the nearest place I could think of.  Hell, it was the only place I could think of that they wouldn’t know.

I don’t know why the Philadelphia Court attacked. I certainly had no fucking clue why they would be angry enough to hire hunters as cleanup. Shit, I am only five … well four – five in at the equinox … and not even my creator shared anything with me.

I should have run somewhere else. Then Rodrigo would still be alive. His kids would still have their dad.

… and I wouldn’t be saddled with a death wish.

I could hear the bitch cackle. And I deserve every snide remark my creator would give me, if she had survived the attack. Which she hadn’t.

I tried to erase the picture of her head flying towards me as I was frozen by fear. But … shit … having a lover’s head hit you square in the chest does reactive the run-like-hell reflex.

I had been taught to calm prey down first. Control them. Get them to the point their only desire to please me. I had blanked Rodrigo’s memory of my feeding off of him plenty of times. Why not tonight?

Instead I talked to him! Hell, I apologized! What was I doing?

And now I got a death wish.

I twisted the nob and the water stopped. The pink foam would eventually make its way down the drain.

Rod’s towels were more thread then cloth, but they worked well enough even if none of them matched. It’s not like the water wanted to stick to me.

I moved quietly down the hall to his bedroom. Maybe something would fit me. He had over six inches and fifty pounds of muscle on me, not counting about twenty pounds of comfortable, as my mom put it.

I had been turned when I was eighteen; happy graduation – hoped you enjoyed your summer, because it is the last one you are going to get. Still hadn’t got my full growth.

Hated them. I was taught not to turn anyone before twenty-five. Just easier for the Made to blend long-term. The only reason anyone gave me for the early turn came from Al who said they needed a daywalker. If he wasn’t just tormenting me, then they broke their own rules to make me. I figured I was minion then toast, and nothing they did to me showed different. Going out in daylight HURTS … but then so did staying in the Court. Working Elias’ gas station actually was a reward in my book, even though it was far beneath the rest.

In the end, the daylight saved me. The younger you are, the less the sun affects you. Nature isn’t completely out to get you. An hour past dawn in July, and I could still run outside and keep running for a good long time. 

To my friend’s home. Well, hovel … I looked around the large closet where he had put a mattress. But whatever … he had a place. Better than me at the moment with everything from the Court gone.

The one bedroom was dedicated to his kids. Damn, he loved them. Talked about them constantly at work. Feared for them, leaving them home alone at night while they slept, keeping them feed, wondering if child services would come.

The few shirts and pants hanging over the mattress were all too large. And idea nibbled at me on how to hide and deal with the death wish.

 … The death wish

Why couldn’t have I played with him until his only thought was to please me? I’ve done it before. Then the death wish ends up being having mind-blowing sex, and that is really easy to do since people can get really off when they die. But I was so hungry and hurt.

I heard my creator’s laugh again. No excuse. She had taught me on my first kill just what being caught up in a death wish gets you. Sip – never kill except on the anniversary – and then only after getting the prey prepared. I’ve killed only five times, two in training and three anniversaries.

I pulled on one of the faded Mr. Mart shirts. Behind me I heard movement. For a second I was paralyzed again. They found me.

Then a slight mew of a child’s sigh and I realized what was happening. The children. It was about ten, so Rod’s after-work nap would be soon ending for what he called the ”las guerras de comida”.

I cracked open the hall door to look at the triplets. Two identical boys and one angelic girl just beginning to stretch and twist out of dreamland.

And I knew.

I had to do it. I began to pull Rodrigo’s form about me. I had until my anniversary in September to wear it. Looking like him would let me hide in plain sight. The others would not expect me to take care of three kids. But function follows form, and memories and actions would pop up while I wore his shell. I should be able to do this. I already knew his job.

I shrugged my shoulders and the shirt settled on my new frame. I strode back to grab some pants.

So this is what tall feels like. Very cool.

… I would also have time to figure out why the hell a sane man rather have a vampire take his kids than their own mother.

(words 985 – first published 11/28/2012; republished new blog format 12/17/2017)

Flash: The Tower

Erin Penn

Cold mid-December wind stung Priscilla’s cheeks, and froze her chapped lips where she had been licking them. She remained still beside Gregory, holding his hand, waiting for the bus to arrive. Inside she was bouncing and screaming. She didn’t want to put a shadow over their last time together this year, but holding her tongue when every instinct told her to speak was driving her mad. She had been waffling since the morning. At last she could hold her trepidation no longer.

Squeezing his hand tighter, staring at the road, Priscilla begged, “Don’t go.”

Gregory’s brown eyes closed. Thick lashes covered in melting snowflakes. “It’s my family. They expect me home for the holidays.”

“You know what the cards said.” She always ran a Tarot spread before either of them traveled.

Using their joined hands to draw her closer, Gregory engulfed her in a hug. “The Tower is not always a bad card. There are no bad cards, you always tell me that.”

“But this time, … you felt the energy.” She lifted her head to look intently into his face, searching for something. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it. Please don’t go mundane on me now.”

His forehead fell against hers. Their breaths puffed fog in the cold air between their nearly joined lips.

*Chaos is fairly normal on Christmas day.* he sent into her thoughts trying to reassure her. Images of past Christmases danced across their shared link.

*It wasn’t life-birth chaos.* The circling maelstrom of worry within her troubled mind would not stop. She sent back the energy vibration they had felt when the card fell into place on the spread, *Crisis –change – disruption – pain*

“It will be okay.” Comfort laced his voice in a way he could not layer in his private, more straightforward thoughts. Her lips were so close his touched hers when he moved his mouth to speak. His right hand, more accurately conveying the fear he felt, knotted in her hair, pressing her head forward. His mouth devoured hers as he sought comfort from and try to give calm to his soul mate.

Tears were streaming down her face when they broke apart. “Please, please, at least let me go with you. You saw, a Queen of Cups could change things. That’s my card. I should go.”

“And lose your job? Miss Solstice with your coven just as you move into primary point?” Threading both hands through her hair to massage the back of her head, he brought their foreheads together. *I will not have the Tower transfer to you.*

Beside them, the bus’ air brakes hissed.

Gregory started untangling his fingers. He had one hand fully free when Priscilla lips pressed together.

“Pl—,” his finger touched her lips.

“Don’t make me deny you a third time my love.”

Ashamed as she was about to require just such an action from him, Priscilla shook her head. “No, of course not.” She swallowed back her anxiety. “Travel well. May the wind be at your back and the sun warm your face.”

“Remain safe. May your garden grow green and your table stay filled.” Gregory gave her one last quick kiss before picking up his backpack and boarding the bus.

(words 537 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/22/2013 for the 7/8/12 Sunday Fun –  – The original photo was of unknown copyright so did not put on my site – published on old blog 9/22/2013; republished in new blog format on 12/10/2017)

 

Flash: It was a Dark and Stormy Night

Erin Penn


Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The dark night did not blink and waver in the manner he was used to. Urban darkness could be surprisingly absolute at unexpected times, then twist and turn to a gray dimness hiding more danger than total dark could. But the sticks had their own danger, and the moonless night was pure black from storm clouds rolling in throughout the day. The stars he had been promised would light his way were well hidden. A streak of lightning crashed through the darkness, destroying what little night vision he never had a chance to develop. Roiling thunder silenced the animals as they scattered for their secret shelters. Words he learned from his drill instructor before they ejected him from boot camp rose to his lips, but were soundless because the sudden deluge of the rain covered all vibrations except for the pounding wet.

At least the things looking for him won’t be able to find his scent.

(Words 156 – first published 1/16/2013; published in new blog format on 12/3/2017)

Flash: Death Wish Part 1 – Hair Drop

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Pietro leaning against the wall outside disturbed me when I opened the apartment’s door. I was about to go to sleep when I heard the knock.  I hadn’t seen him in two months; he always took off the summer from the gas station – convenience store where we pulled third shift. The boss didn’t mind, as summer had plenty of high schoolers to abuse. I figured he had a gig at the shore, but Pietro was looking far from tan.

How did he know where I live? Took me a moment to remember I had invited him over for my new year’s party. He showed up late and left early since he was covering work that night.

God, he looked yummy. We had started grabbing quickies in the back during restocking; hence inviting him over for a party.

God, he looked awful. I knew I was staring at the shorter man, but he had knocked and I still didn’t know why he was here. I didn’t remember it raining, so why was his hair soaked?

Then a drop of liquid fell from his hair to his white T and formed a bright red spot. My eyes suddenly saw his shirt was covered in the red dots and his denim jeans were more black than blue from something other than dye.

I took a step back to close the door when suddenly he was through it, his bloody hand covering my mouth.

“Shush, shush, shush. I am so sorry. I really am. I am sorry.” He muttered using his foot to close the door behind him. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go and the sun is up. Hell, I am so sorry.”

The squeaky toy kind nearly wrecked the ominous mood; Pietro grimaced as he glanced down. Well, may have wrecked what he was creating – but it added a whole other level of fear to me. I tried to take advantage of the broken eye contact to move away, get his hand off my mouth. Anything so I could scream or fight.

“Quiet.” He said and the word echoed through my head cutting off my voice just as the scream was about to break away. Looking again at the toy, he asked “Are they here?”

I nodded as tears rolled down my face. I kept trying to back away from him.

He slowly inhaled as he cornered me against the couch. How had I never noticed the man didn’t breathe? “Where will you like them to be taken?” he asked as he pushed my six foot frame onto the soft surface.

I refound my voice. “Don’t hurt them. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They will be safe. Where do you want them to go?”

God, I should have made a will. But a convenience store income isn’t exactly something you think about dividing. I forgot my most precious possessions also needed assignment. “Not their mother. Please keep them away from their mother.”

He looked at me in the eyes again, his pupils expanding to fill the white. “Any other family?”

I shook my head, unable to look away. His eyes were like a bird’s. A baby bird with its constant hunger, mouth gaping. An adult bird, who remembered that constant bone deep hunger. I wanted to feed it. I needed to feed it. I adjusted my legs as I grew hard. Looking into those black eyes, I knew much of the blood on him was his. He was hunger itself.

”Just take care of them.” I panted as he approached dragging his hand up my leg, over my boxers and finally to my neck. “And don’t ever let their mom have them.”

“I will do what I can.” He swore just before he bit down.

(words 624 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 11/25/2012 (photo for the prompt of unknown origin so not copied); republished in new blog format 11/26/2017)

Flash: Captivated

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Lucius twisted counter-clockwise as the cave exhaled cold air from deeper in through the torture chamber of the goblins. His cuts, bruises and burns welcomed the chill, from his bleeding wrists tied with hemp rope to the celling to the blister burns on his toes. He tried to keep his feet raised flat, away from the roasting coals he was suspended over. His calf and thigh muscles burned from the effort. 

A moment later, sweltering summer air from outside spun him clockwise, re-inflaming every branding the goblins had dug into his flesh. The vertigo cramped his stomach, but he had long vomited everything out. 

For an eternity he had twisted back and forth, ever since his captors had been called away because fairies were attacking. Lucius held hope the goblins would be slaughtered even if he died hanging over coals. While he was certain the goblins were being attacked because they dared steal a human thrall from the fairy mound, Lucius was also confident the fairies would not bother to actually rescue a human foolish enough to be caught by the dimwitted creatures. 

Leananairre and Gwendolynne would find another lover soon enough and he wished them luck. For the untold time he had spent under the hill, they had treated him fair enough since he first found his way into their stone circle. No human could ever imagine what he had experienced at their hands, both in pleasure and pain. The goblins hadn’t even scratched the surface. But he never fooled himself into thinking they had any natural feelings resembling human women. 

He hissed as feet dropped and touched the red coals. Still too warm to see if he could provide a little support through his feet, to take pressure off his dislocated shoulder joints. White dots danced as his eyes warned him of impending unconsciousness. He caught the edge of movement in the incoming chamber entrance as he spun. The Roman forced his eyes to focus as he continued the rotation, so he could see what form of doom was approaching. Mars would never welcome a soldier who faced death with his eyes closed. 

Two golden fairy warriors entered the cave. Both carried gore-caked swords; black blood splattered across the engraved chest plates. Lucius noted the metal plates were shaped to hold woman breasts without surprise. To his knowledge, fairies were not male. One of the reasons they captured the Ferrata Legio when it invaded Hibernia. Ancient treaties prevented the fairy horde from stealing natives, but no such agreements were in place for the new interlopers. 

A pair of blond braids trailed behind one warrior and a mesh of brunette braids fell as the second removed her helm. Leananairre’s blue eyes studied him as he continued to rotate. 

In perfect Latin, Gwendolynne’s clear soprano came from the fully armor woman as she turned to watch the other’s back, “Please tell me we haven’t done all this for a corpse.” 

“The human yet breathes, sister.” Leananairre sultry alto made his dick respond at full erection. After centuries, it knew it was about to get used when he heard both those voices together. The redirection of blood blacked him out a moment. 

Waking on stone, he felt new burns stinging from the icy floor. The fairies must have cut him loose and let him fall into the fire. Putrid water was being tipped slowly into his mouth. He recognized the bucket beside him for the second he was able to pry open his eyes before they reclosed, where the wooden mug against his lips no doubt had been filled, from the number of times the goblins had cooled hot pokers in it after driving them into his body. Lucius was so thirsty he swallowed the trickle until the mug was empty. 

He felt a wet cloth being run over his body. Strange. His two lovers never caressed him, they only did that with each other. Nor had they ever chosen to have a child; having seen them with the few changelings others had chosen to have with their thralls, Lucius was grateful. Neither had a maternal bone in her luscious body. Warriors and guardians of the mound, few could kill on their scale. 

Care for anyone in their own strange way but each other, unheard of. 

When the cool cloth wiped over his forehead and face gently, he opened his eyes to see two emerald eyes staring at him. Now he knew he was dreaming the rescue during his final moments before death. Gwendolynne was the dominant of the fairy dual and had never shared one kind word with him. Her two perfect lips pressed quickly against his before she dipped the cloth in the water again and continued to wipe his wounds. 

“We will need to heal you before we leave the cave.” The blonde informed him. “Every visible wound will need to be removed.” 

Lucius had long learned not to ask questions of Gwendolynne, so he looked around until he found Leananairre. She was stripping out of her plate armor. Sweat soaked her silk shift to her body, showing her nipples and breast to full advantage. Catching her eye a moment, he asked “Why?” 

The brunette unbuckled the sliver clasps of her leg armor as she responded with a smile. “Because we told no one. The queen would not permit your return.” 

“I am not going to lose you over a farce like this.” Gwendolynne declared as she dropped the cloth into the bucket and started removing her armor as well. Dropping her arm braces heedlessly, not caring if one bounced against his broken ribs, she ordered. “You are never to tell anyone.” 

Lucius watched the women prepare for the healing. It would hurt; accelerated healing did not bypass business of healing, just made it happen all at once. 

Leananairre walked over to him and then lowered herself onto his erection. He stared at her blue eyes, as she leaned forward brace herself to ride him hard. In them was an emotion he had never thought to see. Love. If this be a dream, Venus, please never let him wake. 

He grabbed her wide thighs with aching hands, as his shattered fingers reassembled, and pounded into the woman who came to rescue him. Gwendolynne moved his head into her lap as he rocked back and forth with Leananairre.Gwendolynne’s lower blonde curls were damp with sweat. The heady scent of her sweet cum started as she watched the juncture of his human body with her fairy partner. He grunted his release as the pleasure and pain of healing took him. 

When they tenderly traded positions, a second magic behind the healing magic started to build. Lucius could feel it, but they didn’t seem to notice a difference. 

Gwendolynne smoothly slid down his lubricated shaft. Her nails raked down his chest removing healing scabs, tearing at puckered scars from branding and pokers, and prodding broken ribs into place. To distract her from forcing the healing faster than he could handle the pain, the Roman reached for her full breasts. Twisting the nipples sharply, and then stroking them, Lucius applied a bit of side pressure to bring the blonde closer. After the battles she had fought today, she bent to his will easily. He suckled the tit, catching the tip between his teeth before darting his tongue over the end. 

The two magics fused with the emotion he always held back from the fairies as his second orgasm took him. The emotion and magic reflected back the emotions the women felt, the fear of loss, the protectiveness, and the love. The final solider discipline containing seven hundred years of human emotions broke free driving the sexual healing magic beyond its natural limits. A third orgasm immediately followed, ripping through him, discharging the magic in full between all three. He heard both women scream as his seed was released.

(Words 1,316 – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 2/10/2013; republished new blog format 11/19/2017)

The photo provided in the prompt did not impact this story so much as the instruction “please tell in a flash the most romantic situation your hero/heroine has found themselves in. … Delicious, sexy, terrifying?” I first wrote one story, the most romantic scene I have ever had in stored in my head to be used someday. But that one didn’t gell right. So I went through all the old stories here to see if anyone wanted their most romantic moment shared. Lucius volunteered his. I am glad to know that his fae eventually came to love him.