A Southern Gothic Short Story: Heatwave
Welcome to Nature's Corrupted, Magen Cubed's newsletter. This is a place to share writing, thoughts, observations, and personal stories at the intersection of art, fiction, and life.
The summer heat is winding down and autumn is well on its way, bringing a much-needed change in weather. So, to close out the season, have a Southern Gothic short story on me, about the time Dorian and Cash had to entertain themselves during a heatwave. If you haven’t met Dorian and Cash yet, check out Leather and Lace: Book One of the Southern Gothic Series, a monster-hunting urban fantasy and paranormal romance romp.
This story contains some sexy outfits, fantasies about being consensually menaced by Dracula and a Southern dandy, Cash trying to get roughed up by Dorian (lovingly), and a bit of adult language. If you would like to read more sexy Southern Gothic hijinks, you can check out How To Train Your Pet Human, which collects some of Dorian and Cash’s other bedroom escapades.
A Southern Gothic Short Story: Heatwave
The summer came to Devereux, and with it, a record-breaking heatwave that threatened to choke the entire city. Heatwaves brought breaks in cases, as Cash had explained. Monsters seemed much less interested in killing each other or catching a few lethargic humans when it was hot out. Autumn and winter were peak seasons for hunters. It made sense enough that most monsters, especially those with heavy fur coats, wanted to spend their time indoors when it was hot enough to fry an egg on the pavement.
Dorian remembered hearing this at some point when Cash first took him on to train. Then once again, when they first started working cases together. And yet again, one day in the Dairy Queen drive-thru, waiting on Dorian's Blizzard and Cash's chicken tenders. At the time, Dorian didn't pay Cash much mind. A week or so without work wasn't entirely uncommon. For a lifelong hunter like Cash, steady work had natural ebbs and flows. He knew how to balance their budget for the slow weeks. Dorian wasn't a hunter by birth, but he spent enough years working bars and warming beds to expect dry spells.
Excessive heat and a tighter budget Dorian could deal with.
Boredom, on the other hand, the vampire wasn't built to survive that.
The first few days were a welcomed and relaxing change of pace spent lounging around the apartment and sleeping in. By the fifth day, Dorian had grown restless of being indoors with little to do.
By the tenth day, the vampire was out of shows to watch on Netflix.
By the fourteenth day —
Cash's phone vibrated in his back pocket. He set down the spatula, neglecting the eggs frying in the skillet to check the message. A text from Dorian. The photo loaded.
"Oh."
Cash shut off the shove, took the pan off the burner, and then made his way to the bedroom. Beyond the closed door, Dorian awaited him. Phone in hand, wearing seven-inch black heels and an elaborate black harness/jockstrap combination — the straps of which were hooked onto his heels as he arched his back and posed for the camera. A modest dusting of powdery rouge accented his already considerable cheekbones, lips tinted black in his pout.
The human held out his phone. Dorian's photo, posing seductively with an overexposed filter, stared back at the vampire. Dorian set his phone down.
"What?" asked Dorian in feigned innocence.
"I came to ask you the same thing," answered Cash.
"Well, it worked, didn't it?"
"You said you were hungry, so I was making some eggs."
A huff. The vampire unhooked his underwear from his heels, with all the grace he could muster with his legs bent back, and sat up.
"I got bored."
"So you started taking thirst traps?"
"I mean." Dorian paused to smooth back his hair. "Yes."
"Just don't put those online," Cash said, disappearing back to the kitchen.
Dorian's ears perked. "Are you jealous?"
"Of course not," Cash called as he set about putting away the cooked eggs for later. "Just, you know, don't give that away for free. That's good stuff."
This bolstered Dorian's confidence. "Are you coming back?"
"I'm comin', I'm comin'." Cash dried his hands with a chuckle. Putting the food away in the fridge and the pan in the sink to soak, he called, "Quit whining, or you'll pull a muscle."
The vampire made room in the bed for the bigger, broader human. Cash kicked off his in-the-house shoes — not to be confused with his out-of-the-house cowboy boots — and climbed in. Dorian wasted no time climbing atop Cash and sitting in his lap.
"Are you tired of me yet?"
Cash laced their fingers together. "No. Why?"
"Because I'm tiresome."
"Well, I'd never get tired of you."
Sighing, Dorian bore fangs. "You've spent the last two weeks watching cooking shows on YouTube and being endearing and shit. It's annoying."
Cash chuckled. "Why is that annoying?"
"Because you're wholesome," Dorian said. "And I'm horny and bored."
"You wanna fool around?" Cash's eyebrow bounced salaciously. "I'll let you rough me up how you like."
“Oh, how I like?”
“Well, how I also like.”
Dorian considered Cash's offer and how much energy it could have taken to do so.
"No," he decided. "It's hot and I'm lazy."
"Fair. Want me to suck you off instead?"
The vampire let out a defeated whine. In a fit of self-pity wholly unbecoming of someone in such a strappy outfit, Dorian slid out of Cash's lap and collapsed into the bed beside him.
"No. Well, maybe. But no. I don't know what I want. I'm just restless, I guess."
Cash sat up on an elbow and entertained himself by walking two fingers down Dorian's chest. Starting at the vampire's collarbone, over his smooth chest, and to his navel. They hooked in the waistband of Dorian's tiny underwear to toy with it. There, he mused, "Well, what if I told you about my fantasies instead?"
One of the vampire's pointed ears swiveled to attention. "Your…sexy fantasies?"
"What other fantasies do you think I have?" Cash asked, smirking. "Thought it might get you in the mood, at least."
"I mean, assuming they're fantasies about me," quipped Dorian.
"Listen, I only brought the threesome thing up in the first placed because—"
"Uh-huh. Look, everybody knows you're into werewolves, Cassius. But you were about to flatter me with your lurid sexual fantasies."
Laughing, Cash said, "Well, alright. If you wanna hear it..."
***
The vampire's castle was dark and winding, an elaborate cathedral to the Count's blood-soaked depravity. Clutching the stake resolutely, the hunter roamed the catacombs beneath the grand palace, his path illuminated by his blazing torch. There, in a throne room secreted away below the earth, he found the vampire's coffin. It was an ornate wooden structure, fitting of the Count, with gold and gemstones laid in scenes of decadence and terrible violence.
Taking a deep breath, the hunter placed the torch in one of the wall-mounts near the throne room's massive door. He gripped the stake as he opened the coffin's lid. Inside, the Count slept as if dead, arms laid over his chest. The sight took the hunter aback. Porcelain-perfect complexion, long and luscious black hair, and a face carved as if by the Italian masters. Beautiful, ethereal, and possessing a feline danger behind a soft and pillowy mouth.
Struck by the vampire's grace, the hunter's resolve wavered. That was all it took for the Count to attack. Red eyes opening, the vampire flew into action. He reached for the hunter's throat to fling him away. The hunter leaped to his feet to recover his lost ground, gathering his dropped stake. The vampire rose from the coffin with preternatural speed, unveiling his slender, black-clad body and a billowing cape.
The hunter attacked, bringing his stake down into the Count's chest. But the vampire was faster and stronger, fending off the hunter as if swatting a fly. He pinned the hunter by the throat, held against the wall of the throne room so tightly that his claws drew blood. Breathing in the hunter's scent — woodsy, dark, and masculine — something in the vampire's eyes changed. He made quick work of the buttons holding the hunter's shirt closed, opening them, and pushing the shirt open. Gazing at the exposed throat, the Count could not resist the urge to take the hunter's neck in his jaws.
The hunter struggled as the Count stroked his bare chest, resisting the deft claws teasing skin so rarely touched by human hands. Sinking teeth brought first pain and then bright, delicious pleasure as the vampire began to suck at the twin pinpricks in his neck. Fear and pain were swiftly replaced with arousal as the vampire's sure fingers reached for his cock, now straining forward in his trousers.
"You must consent to me, human," the vampire murmured into the hunter's throat. "I cannot please you until you give me permission."
The hunter's words caught in his throat, mouth opening to give voice to his dizzied thoughts. Of course, he wanted the vampire, but to say so, to whisper his ache into reality —
"Do you desire me, human?"
Gasping, hungry, the hunter said, "Yes."
The Count immediately released his would-be assassin and undid the leather lacing of his trousers, unveiling his engorged, knotted —
***
"A cape?" Dorian raised a well-shaped brow.
"Yeah," Cash said. "A cape."
"Like a Halloween cape?"
"No, more like a long and sexy cape. All velvety or whatever."
"So you want me to sexually menace you in a cape?"
"Well." Cash paused to think about his answer. "I mean, menace is a strong word. It's more like a consensual menace. Like, I'm into the menacing. I'm just pretending I'm not. It's like Sexy Dracula."
"Dracula is a racist caricature."
"I mean, yeah, I guess. But not when you do it. It's hot when you do it."
Dorian shrugged. "Okay, well, you're on your own in finding a castle. But if you want me to dick you down in a cape, I'm into it."
"Yeah, but — I have other fantasies, too…."
***
The golden Texas sun beat down on the cowboy's brow. Heat made a day's work impossible at times like this, his time spent tending to the landowner's cattle. Upon his trusted horse, the cowboy rode across the ranch's twenty acres, doing odd jobs like mending fallen fences and making sure the animals were fed and safe. Silent, resolute, the consummate ranch hand.
By mid-day, the cowboy was exhausted. He needed water and a moment to himself. Leaving the cattle to his companion, an older, gruffer ranch hand he often rode out with, the cowboy headed back toward the house. The barn was there nearby, as the pump for the well. He fetched water from the well with a bucket before retiring to the barn. Inside, he took off his hat, boots, and shirt. The barn was empty, the sheep out to graze, and none of the other workers around this time of day. With a cloth, he washed, wiping off the salt of his sweat and enjoying the coolness of the water.
His respite was short-lived as the barn door opened with an ominous creak. A silhouette fell over the doorway, the figure's frame back-lit by the blistering sun. A guilty shiver came over the cowboy in his wet, exposed state. Stepping forward, the landowner's son revealed himself.
The landowner's heir was a fine Southern dandy, dressed in a well-fitted black suit, white blouse, and floral cravat. His long black hair was pulled back in a smart-looking ponytail, fallen strands coyly framing his face. He looked over the cowboy with a calm, unflinching eye.
"You abandoned your job."
The cowboy squared up, put on a good face. "Just taking a break, sir."
"My father pays you to tend to his livestock and property." The dandy took another step toward the cowboy, sizing him up. "You don't get breaks unless he says so."
"I know, sir. I'll get back to work."
Reaching for his shirt, the cowboy hastily began to dress. The dandy placed a hand on the cowboy's glistening chest.
"Did I say you could dress?"
The cowboy met the dandy's stern eye. He swallowed.
"No, sir."
"Do you think you can just abandon your post without being punished?"
Wetting his lips, the cowboy shook his head. "No, sir."
The dandy tipped his chin. His voice drew severe as he said, "Take out your belt and place it in my hand."
Arousal — strong, strange, and electric — shot down the length of the cowboy's dick.
"Why my belt?"
"I'm going to punish you," the dandy said. "Now, give me your belt."
The cowboy did as he was told. He assumed the position at one of the support beams that ran lengthwise down the inside of the barn, taking off his shirt and leaning into the beam. Behind him, the dandy tested the belt's leather in a soft smack against his palm. The sound alone excited the cowboy, long before the dandy reared back in a swift, forceful strike —
***
"Why are all your fantasies about me beating your ass in a nice outfit?" Dorian asked.
Cash lifted a shoulder to shrug. "It's hot."
"It seems weirdly specific. Also, why do I own property in all these scenarios?"
"Dorian, it's not real—"
"I don't even know what a cravat is—"
"Dorian." A sigh. Cash took Dorian's phone away before the vampire could finish Googling. "You don't have to wear a cravat. I just want you to dom me."
"Yeah, but the cravat is part of the fantasy. I could smack you around anytime, but you want me to set the scene."
Taking Dorian's face in his hands, Cash chuckled. "Just rough me up a little and call it a day, alright?"
"Do you want me to call you a slutty little cowboy when I do it?"
"…I wouldn’t be against it."
After a moment, convinced by Cash's earnestness, Dorian nodded. "Okay."
"Good." Smirking, Cash asked, "What about you?"
"Oh. Um. Yeah, I don't really have sexy fantasies," Dorian answered, with all the confidence of a deflated balloon. "I'm good, you know? Just really solid with what we got going on."
"Well, I mean, if you did —"
"Which I don't —"
"If you did, I'd like to hear them."
The vampire winced. "It's stupid."
"I won't think it's stupid."
"You're going to think it's stupid."
"Do you just not hear me when I talk, Dorian, or…?"
Letting out a whimper, Dorian rolled away to put his back to Cash. "It's embarrassing. I don't want to say it."
"It's not embarrassing. I want to know."
When Dorian didn't answer, Cash scooped him up in a hug. Dorian frowned deeply. The hug got tighter. Sighing, Dorian retrieved his phone, found a photo, and sent it. Cash's phone vibrated on the nightstand.
"There. I took that before," Dorian said. "I didn't send because I chickened out."
One arm still looped around the vampire to prevent escape. Cash reached for his phone and viewed the message.
"Oh."
The human's face darkened. He sat up.
"Oh. So, you — you want me to do that. I see."
A furious blush rosed the vampire's complexion. "You don't have to if —"
"You wanna start now?"
Dorian's ears perked. "Wait, right now?"
Tossing the phone, Cash pulled off his shirt. "Yessir."
Dorian forgot about being bored as he reached for Cash's jeans, unbuttoning them and yanking them down. "Well, hell yeah, then."
Neither of them heard Cash's phone ring or noticed Detective Fritz's name on the Caller ID.
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