Today’s Brew: Witches Brew! Happy Halloween!
by Kristen and Julie
To celebrate Halloween, we bring you a collaborative story between our favorite bad boys, Tristan and Lynch.
Her skin was so tan, it begged to be cracked and broken open like a tropical fruit, to let me taste the sweetness inside until it was gone.
Not here. I threw the dice again, willing myself not to look at the tan one, or even to feel the slowly lapping tongue of the chubby blonde in my ear on the other side as she crawled up and down my suit, wrinkling it. There would be a busty maid waiting to pick up my suit no matter what time I got back to the room, and when that busty maid quietly disappeared, another would replace her. Just like magic. This was Vegas, and magic happened all the time.
I needed to get the hell out of New Hampshire for a while, to somewhere with some refinery that appreciated a man with taste, and with taste for a special kind of sin. Looking around the high roller room, I thought I’d found it. Until my eyes landed on him.
Surrounded by a swarm of bimbos that made my dates look like choir girls, hair and leather sprawled out from the chair at the table. He didn’t have a glass in front of him, but a bottle, that he lifted to his lips in between sucking on the necks of the girls closest to him. He didn’t even look at them, how could he, his eyes open little more than slits.
“Young lady,” I said quietly to the waitress, a pristine thing in black and white, an old movie waiting to be colored red. She came to me quickly, smiling shyly.
“Yes, Mr. Lynch?” she said, a melodious voice that I wanted to hear scream.
“Can we please,” I glanced to the over-active corner, “tidy up a bit?”
Her eyes widened, her lips moving with a childlike uncertainty. “Oh, sir,” she said. “That is Tristan Trevosier.”
I ran a finger down her arm, feeling the goosebumps rise under my cool touch. “Why should that matter to me, darling girl?”
“He’s famous, you know? He’s in Immortal Dilemma.” Her eyes widened and she jerked her head back to the spectacle at the table in the corner.
“Still doesn’t matter.” My words were little more than breath against her skin. She shivered as I spoke. “Why would that make him special?”
“I’ve heard he’s a…” She turned back again, looking nervous and lowering her voice. “Vampire.”
“Do you know what vampires do?”
She was trembling, and it hurt to look at it. I would crush her butterfly wings to stop them from shaking. “Are you saying you think they’re real?”
“I don’t have to think it.” My shield was a fluttering thing around us, but still strong enough to keep the women I escorted from seeing as I leaned in, sniffing deeply her hot pink aroma.
“Mr. Lynch?” she squeaked, eyes darting to the shimmering air around us.
“Sssshhh.” And I plunged my fangs into the warm pulsing vein in her throat, my hand over her mouth so I could feel the scream. I’d been drinking, and my shield was a near failure. I would never be the strongest vampire. The thought of that made me drink deeper, squeeze her cheeks harder, want to consume and obliterate all at once.
“Hey! Hey, man. What the fuck are you doing?” The famous vampire approached me, snapping me out of my thrall. There was delicious suction when I pulled my mouth from the waitress, her blood salty and thick. She whimpered softly against my hand, now wet with her tears. Gasps and murmurs swirled around us. “We don’t do that shit in public.”
“You…you saw that?” It was my turn to be surprised.
The rockstar already slid his hands around the waist of my waitress, again making the swarm of on lookers and hangers-on cry out with objection or envy. He pressed her against his body, concealing her open wound. “Yeah. That’s not how you do it. You do it like this. Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Drowsy, the waitress nodded as Tristan ran his tongue along her neck then laid her down over the lip of the craps table, so her legs were up above her head. He ran his hands along her thighs, pushing up her already barely there uniform skirt and biting into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.
“What are you doing over here?” the chubby blonde bitched at the rock star. “Lynch, what is he doing?” she said, turning to me as I wiped a smear of blood off my chin. She noticed, and came quickly to look at it. “Are you okay?”
So she hadn’t seen me take the waitress’s blood. Only he had. He actually was a vampire.
I tapped him on the shoulder as he ravaged the waitress’s thigh. “I think you should go back to your hole in the earth, little boy, before I take your harem away from you.”
He raised his head just enough for me to see the blood glisten against his chin. His eyes burned black and he bared his fangs to me. “Try it.” He growled.
Faster than he could think, I took him by the mane of hair, wishing I didn’t have to touch it all the same, and slammed his face hard into the table next to the waitress. She screamed, a tinkling sound in this place, but only had the life left to curl in a ball on top of the game.
Tristan sprung from the table, but swayed when he stood. And I was the undisciplined one? He was a raging mess of a boy, with bloodshot eyes and a drug-thinned body. He ran at me, and I hit him, sending him back against the table. The girls were all screaming, mine and his alike. It made my teeth gnash and my heart pound.
My interests were no longer on him.
“Alright, man, I get it, you’re strong,” the rock star said.
If he said anything else, I didn’t care. The plump blonde cried out, pushed away from the table by Tristan. She somehow made her way into a chair, her arms wrapped loosely around her body in a hug. Nothing was going to bring her comfort tonight. I walked to her, going down on one knee and smiling into her tear brimmed eyes. I pulled her arms away from her stomach, pulling her body to mine, to taste the sweet nectar she held inside.
“Stop screaming,” I said through a smile. “It makes me crazy.”
But all the screaming around me, a cacophony of songbirds, had my teeth roaring to sink in to any one of them and all of them.
Her soft belly was in front of me and I pinned her to the chair, ripping my teeth into the flesh of it while she writhed like she loved it. The wound was wide, and she wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy me finishing her blood.
When I drained her, I moved to the next one, and the next one, wondering how long I had before the cameras caught on through the shield. I saw Tristan flash by as he did the same, laboring over the sucking of each girls’ thighs and chests, while I relished the distress of the others. It was a beautiful tragedy, perfection of destruction.
All too soon, the bystanders were reduced to bodies strewn on the carpet like emptied drink cups. The rock star sat back down at his game table and ran his fingers through his hair. He raised his bottle to me. “Cheers.”
Invigorated from our little competition, I couldn’t help but ask. “So what else is there to do around here on a Friday night?”
***You can find more Lynch in Running Home and more Tristan in Because The Night.***