Posted: June 2004
Attack of the Weird Plot Bunny # 1: A Friar's Seduction
Author: Estella Greenleaf
Fandom: Van Helsing
Genre: FCS
Characters: Friar Carl: David (his character from Van Helsing), Nicolas, Prince of the Werewolves: Karl, With a cameo by Hugh Jackman as Van Helsing
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of this is true. I don't know anything. It's all a figment of my sick imagination.
Warning: PWP smut!

Premise: Set in Van Helsing universe, sort of.

*****

Rome:

With purposeful strides, Van Helsing approached his friend who was mixing two ‘viscous liquids' together with infinite care. This was probably a bad idea, but their mission was urgent. "We need to leave now."

"But we just got back," said the friar plaintively, as he gently set his experiment down.

"Haven't you heard that ‘evil never sleeps'?" teased the monster hunter as he grabbed some ammunition for his gas-propelled crossbow and tossed it into his equipment bag.

"Yes, of course. That is why I do what I do best so you can do what you do best," answered Carl as he walked to his workbench with Van Helsing on his heels. He proceeded to stuff the standard ‘werewolf hunting' gear into the leather sack. "It is the ‘me going with you' part I do not quite understand."

"It is the Elders' decision. I think they think you can keep me in line."

"As if such a thing is possible," whined the friar, knowing full well the monster hunter's perchance for mayhem and violence. Though he did get some enjoyment out of his ‘adventure' in Transylvania, he was not looking forward to working in the field again; all that action and fighting simply was not his style. He could only hope this assignment would not be as testing on his nerves as the previous one.

*****

Transylvania

Other than the fact that he was alone in a creepy, abandoned castle, Carl was happy. He was warm, dry and relatively safe behind the locked doors of the library. He couldn't believe Van Helsing had gone out hunting on a stormy night like this; but then, he could never quite understand the monster hunter's ‘logic' anyway.

A small scratching sound drew the friar's attention to the door. "Who is it?" asked Carl in a low hesitant voice.

A soft whine answered his question. Soon, more scratching followed. What the friar lacked in courage, he made up for in curiosity. The unknown creature outside did not sound so big; it probably would not pose too much of a danger if he were to open the door to have a look. After taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Carl opened the door with a candle in hand.

The friar yelped in a mixture of surprise and fear when he saw his mystery visitor. It was a wolf, a rather large one with sable-brown fur and shining amber eyes. Retreating from the door, he whispered, "Nice doggy…"

The wolf whined again and looked up, holding the man's azure eyes with its amber orbs. Carl knew then that the animal was hurt; and that it was begging for help. The friar knew it was a very bad idea, but the wolf's pleading gaze had struck a cord within his heart. He simply *couldn't* close the door upon a creature in need. "You are hurt."

As if understanding the man's words, the wolf let out a small bark and gingerly moved. Carl gasped when he saw that the creature's hind leg had been broken, crushed bones piercing its flesh. Blood was still seeping out of the wound, staining the fur in the surrounding area a deep crimson.

"Oh, poor thing," said the friar as he set down his candle and approached the wolf again.

With all his might, Carl picked up the large wolf. He did not want the injured creature to walk on his wounded leg anymore than necessary. To his surprise, the wolf didn't struggle against his hold; instead, it snuggled closer against him, seemingly content to be in his arms. Carl staggered towards the sofa with his load, thanking the Lord when he reached his destination without tripping and falling over. "Your leg needs to be set. It is going to hurt… a lot."

The wolf whimpered before giving Carl an expression that reminded him of a wane smile. It was most peculiar, the way this creature seemed so human. Not wanting to dwell more on this unsettling aspect, the friar said, "All right. I will get the tools."

*****

Carl turned over in his sleep, burying his face in the silken pillow. It smelled nice, of pines and the great outdoors. He moaned softly in pleasure, wrapping the downy soft blanket around his form. This was when consciousness slowly returned; a strange feeling began to register in his brain. Something was not quite right. He woke with a start to find himself naked in a luxurious bed in an opulent room he did not recognize. Considering he had fallen asleep on the floor of a library in a cobweb-ridden castle, his new surroundings were a cause for concern.

A soft gravelly voice with an exotic accent drew his attention to a velvet-clad figure by the veranda door. "You fell asleep by the sofa last night. I took the liberty of moving you here. I hope you do not mind."

"Who are you?" asked the friar, heart pounding as he remembered the wolf from last night. He suspected this ‘man' before him was no man at all.

Approaching the bed slowly in an attempt to not cause his ‘guest' more alarm, the master of the castle replied, "I am Nicolas, the Prince of my people. You need not fear me. I owe you my life. I will never harm you."

"You are a werewolf."

"Yes, but not in the way you perceive. Watch," replied the werewolf as he closed his eyes. Blocking out all his external senses, Nicolas formed the image of his other self in his mind. A familiar tingling spread through his body; he felt lighter, his body dissolving into mist before taking shape again as a wolf.

"Oh dear…" muttered Carl, horrified and a tiny bit fascinated by what he had just witnessed.

Before the friar could decide if he should attempt an escape, the werewolf pounced, pinning him to the bed. ‘It' proceeded to nuzzle his neck with its cold moist snout, an action that prompted Carl to tense. He was terrified, yet a small part of him found all this perversely erotic. This wayward feeling intensified when the creature lapped gently at his neck with its raspy and surprisingly dry tongue. Soon, he couldn't stop himself from letting out a small moan of pleasure.

Suddenly, the wolf stopped its licking. It went completely still before dissolving once again into mist. Carl soon found himself trapped underneath the devastatingly gorgeous human form of Nicolas. Strong chiseled features, intense amber eyes, full sensual lips, velvety skin stretched over a perfect defined muscular form, the Prince of the werewolves seemed made for erotic sin. The friar wondered if anyone had ever been able to resist Nicolas' physical charm.

Eyes locked with the friar's, the werewolf said huskily, "I only seek to repay my debt, friar. Will you not allow it?"

Carl was hardly an innocent; he knew what the werewolf wanted. But he also knew to allow it would be a sin, which was why he had always curbed his curiosity in this particular area. As if sensing his thoughts, Nicolas whispered with a seductive smile, "Worry not, my good friar. There is much we can do without breaking your sacred laws."

To Carl, this just seemed too good a chance to pass. He took a deep breath and nodded, "All right…"

The friar never finished his sentence as his lips were consumed in a fiery kiss. He gasped in surprise at the force of Nicolas' passion, a movement that gave the werewolf entry to his mouth. With demanding thrusts of his tongue, the Prince claimed the hot cavern as his property. After kissing Carl's breath away, Nicolas finally relinquished control of the man's lips.

"You will not regret letting me worship you, my sweet one," breathed Nicolas into his lover's ear as he gently nibbled the lobe. His hands roamed Carl's body, mapping it with sweet caresses that made the man moaned. Though the friar had been with women before, it had *never* felt this good… and the werewolf hadn't even touched any of his sensitive spots yet.

Moving lower, Nicolas suckled hard on the base of Carl's neck. The friar whimpered; he never knew his neck was such an erogenous zone. His entire body felt on fire as pressure built within his loins; he needed to be touched there *now*. Once again, the werewolf seemed to be able to read his mind. A large, calloused hand encircled his arousal, kneading it gently. He bucked upwards, desperate for more friction; he was rewarded with Nicolas' thumb massaging a spot on the head of his manhood that drove him insane with lust.

Sensing that his lover could not hold on much longer, the werewolf tightened his grip on Carl's arousal and began pumping the length enthusiastically in corkscrew motion. The man writhed and bucked underneath him, moaning wantonly, trying to get as much contact as possible. Nicolas smiled before bending to tug gently on one of the friar's nipples with his teeth. When the werewolf started to lap on the peaked disc in time with the stroking of his hand, Carl succumbed to the sweet torture and come with a strangled cry.

Nicolas pulled back to study sated lover. Carl was adorable, with his hair tussled and a most goofy grin plastered upon his face. Smiling tenderly, the werewolf asked, "Would you like more?"

Carl's eyes, which he had closed earlier when he reached his peak, snapped open. He would definitely love more of this amazing earth-shattering pleasure, but he was still boneless from the werewolf's skillful administrations. "I am not sure if I can move."

Nicolas laughed. "Then don't," said the werewolf as he brought his hand to his lips and licked Carl's seeds off his fingertips.

The friar moaned at the decadent sight; he could feel his manhood stirring again. He watched in fascination as his lover kissed and licked his stomach clean. The werewolf moved lower still; Carl's breath hitched in his throat as Nicolas laid the first kiss upon his half-mast arousal. No one had ever touched him like that before. With soft kisses and gentle licks, his lover skillfully brought his erection to life, eliciting a series of rapturous moans in the process.

Carl cried out and fisted the silken sheets as the werewolf's tongue caressed his sensitive sacs. When his lover drew one of the sacs into his mouth, the friar thought he had died and gone to heaven. Pleasure hummed in his every nerve; he had never even dreamed that such ecstasy was possible. He whimpered in protest when Nicolas drew away slightly to lick his cock again. But any annoyance on his part vanished when the werewolf took the tip of his manhood into his mouth.

Nicolas swirled his tongue teasingly around the sensitive head. Eyes feasting on the euphoric expression on the friar's face, he put a firm hand on the man's hip to prevent him from bucking. Slowly, he started to take more of the heated shaft into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he went to increase the pressure on the sensitive flesh. Carl was howling in ecstasy now, a sound that the werewolf found extremely sexy. His free hand drifted down to his own arousal, stroking the organ languidly as he took in his lover's entire length.

With a control that had taken centuries to develop, Nicolas dictated the pace of the tryst, drawing out their pleasure for as long as possible. In slow deliberate motions, he moved up and down his lover's cock, lavishing the underside with ample attention from his tongue as he suckled the length.

Carl's whimpered urgently with need; he was certain that his body would soon explode if he were not granted release soon. The moment he formed the thought, the werewolf picked up the pace of his administration. The hand that held him captive before moved, drifting lower to caress his sacs. Now free to move, the friar wasted no time in thrusting passionately into his lover's welcoming mouth.

Nicolas moaned in response, the vibrations in his throat sending the most exquisite of pleasure through the man's groin. It was not long before Carl reached his peak, the intensity of the pleasure robbing him of his senses. Karl eagerly drank in his lover's essence, milking the spent shaft for all it would give. With a few more tugs of his hand, he too found his release.

The werewolf slid up the bed to cradle the unconscious friar to him, feeling happier than he had been in millennia. If only he could keep Carl with him forever… but that could never be. The friar was a servant of God and he a servant of the Devil. A stolen moment of bliss was all they could ever have. With one last kiss upon his slumbering lover's lips, Nicolas opened the portal and sent the man back to the outside world. No matter what happened in the future, no matter how many more millennia he existed, he would remember this night always.

*****

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Estella Greenleaf