Owl House Gay Novels & Stories

The hips twitched in a shallow, fading rhythm as his shaft jerked inside the slick, wet heat. Sex. Gay sex, tangled with death. Fangs buried deep in flesh, blood soaking into the sheets, the stranger’s cock slack and spent, his body emptying out while Owen kept moving inside him. A vampire. A fucking real one. Feeding and taking life while he took pleasure. And this intruder, who the fuck was he? Owen hadn’t sensed him before, hadn’t caught his scent through the fog of lust and blood. Now he was there, frozen in the doorway, staring at everything with wide eyes.