Hello! I'm Kirsty Logan, a writer of novels and short stories. My books are The Gracekeepers, A Portable Shelter, and The Rental Heart & Other Fairytales.

“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 2)

“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 2)

Please acquaint yourself with Part 1 of the Busted slash.

Now lie back on your chaise longue, light your cigarillo, and lift your monocle to your eye for Part 2 (AKA Release The Willies)…

“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 2)

Matt’s brain was flicking through the usual images: Britney Spears in a PVC catsuit; his high school English teacher holding a cane and threatening to spank him; walking onstage wearing only huge pink underpants; three pale girls with dark hair and pointed teeth, swaying their hips and beckoning to him with tapered fingers… OK, that wasn’t one of the usual dreams. His brain appeared to like that one, as the girls continued to sway in front of his eyes. He settled into the dream.

The girls danced for him, their hips moving like snakes. Their long fingers stroked one another, moving over breasts and waists barely covered by black silk. Their pointed tongues flickered out, licking red mouths. Matt took a step towards them, and they smiled. Their teeth really were pointed; they looked dangerously sharp.

Matt sat up in bed. The dream continued to flicker through his brain.

The girls were calling his name. They wanted him to go to them. They started to kiss, triple tongues sliding together, triple mouths pouting.

Matt slid out of bed, dragging his feet as he moved towards the open door. He bumped the doorframe as he passed it, but did not wake.

Matt stepped towards the girls. They were murmuring, whispering his name between their moans. Their fingers beckoned him as they licked each other’s necks, red tongues oiling the flawless white skin.

Matt walked straight ahead, moving his hands out to reach the pale girls.

He was so close, but it seemed that they moved further away with every step he took. The girls were still calling him, their tongues moving more aggressively across the porcelain skin, teeth grazing, leaving thin red trails.

Matt stepped through the doorway of the room opposite, silently moving across the thick carpet. He tripped over a huge object in the centre of the room, and fell softly onto it. The bed bounced slightly as it accepted his weight.

He stepped again towards the girls, and tripped. They caught him gleefully, and a bed appeared below them in midair. He accepted this with the odd logic of dreams, and sat up on his knees to survey the girls. They lay below him, smiling up at him with their pointed white teeth and their pouted red mouths. He bent down to the middle girl and gently kissed her.

Matt knelt over the body below him. He bent down and kissed the warm mouth, sliding his tongue gently inside.

The other girls cooed his name, sliding their cold hands over his body to tear off his clothes. He broke the kiss, slowly pulling the black silk off their bodies. The fabric became tangled, and he had to tug at it before throwing it to the floor.

Matt pulled away from the kiss, gently ripping the fabric in front of his hands, only stopping when he could feel warm flesh below him. He slid his hands over the body, feeling a broad chest, strong shoulders, a soft neck. He bent down to the neck, kissing and licking the flesh before gently nibbling it.

He was surrounded by flesh, soft white skin displayed in front of him. The girls’ hands were all over his body, stroking his chest and shoulders, sliding up his back. They tangled their fingers in his hair, sliding along his jaw, stroking his mouth. He kissed the finger on his lips, then playfully sucked it into his mouth. The girls moaned his name, obviously enjoying his play.

Matt kissed lower, his mouth moving from the soft neck, down past the muscled chest and stomach to the warm flesh below. He found a hardness there, and pulled it into his mouth. He sucked at it, licking along the length and flicking his tongue at the tip.

The more he played with the finger, the more the girls moaned for him. He didn’t even know which girl’s finger he was sucking, but he really didn’t care. It seemed to be having a similar effect on all of them. They were still stroking their hands down his back, and as he sucked harder they became more frantic, dragging their fingernails over his skin. He reached out for the nearest patch of white skin, and scratched in return. The girls shrieked with pleasure.

Matt sucked on the hardness in his mouth, his hands moving over all the skin he could reach. He dragged his fingernails over the stomach, clawing harder the more his tongue moved. He licked and sucked, stroking with his fingertips.

As he sucked on the girl’s finger, she shrieked louder, the noise ringing in his ear. The fingernails on his back were beginning to hurt. He tried to pull away, but the girls would not let him go. They pulled him down to them, and before he could struggle, they dug their sharp teeth into his neck. He could feel them sucking, could feel blood running down onto his collarbones. He screamed.

Matt woke with a start and sat up. He knelt there, wondering where he was. This was not the room he had fallen asleep in. The sun had risen, and cold light filtered through the dirty window. Matt looked down. This was James’ room, and there was James… but what the hell had happened to him? His clothes were ripped and strewn across the floor, there were long scratch marks down his stomach, and he had a huge lovebite on his neck. In a second, Matt’s dream came rushing back. Oh, shit. He had done it. He had been dreaming about those damn vampire girls and – oh God! – touching James in his sleep. Matt went over the dream again. The kissing – he had kissed James! The licking – he had licked James! The finger-sucking? Matt glanced at James’ fingers. They were nestled up by his head, clutching the pillow. He couldn’t possibly have been sucking them. A chill crept down Matt’s spine. He looked down. Oh shit. He had sucked off his best friend in his sleep. This was not good. How the fuck do you go about explaining that? You don’t, that’s how. You run away and deny everything. Matt stumbled off the bed, tiptoeing back to his room to try and get back to sleep. He curled up on the huge bed and tried to forget about what he suspected had just happened. Shock and denial did not seem to affect Matt’s sleep patterns, as he fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.


At the moment that Matt’s dream was ending, James’ was just beginning. He had always had a secret fascination with history, and Ancient Egypt in particular. He had never told the other boys, suspecting (quite rightly) that they would make mummy jokes for weeks. Consequently, he occasionally had dreams about sarcophagi, hieroglyphs and girls wearing kohl and not much else. When a honey-skinned girl appeared, he assumed this was one of his Egyptian dreams and settled into it.

He was watching her through a gap in a stone wall. She seemed beautiful, but as he could only see one of her eyes he couldn’t be sure. He moved closer to the gap, moving his eye right up to it.

James stood up and stepped carefully forward. Two more steps and he had reached the end of the bed. The knee-buckling crash when he stepped to the floor failed to wake him.

Yes, she was lovely. Her almond-shaped eyes were as black as the eyelashes fringing them. Her mouth was wide and full, her skin seemed impossibly smooth. He simply looked at her face for a few moments, enjoying her beauty. His eyes moved down her body. Beginning at her collarbones, all there was to see was white. She seemed to be wrapped in some sort of white robe. He scrunched up his eyes. He couldn’t see properly what it was. He needed to get closer, to touch her. After all, that was what usually happened in these dreams. But how to get in? There didn’t seem to be a way. He slapped himself on the forehead when he realised that his eye was pressed up against a door. He opened the door and stepped inside.

James padded along the corridor, turning when his hip bumped into the banister. He reached a door and pushed it open, stepping into the room.

He moved closer to the girl, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She did not move. He looked more closely at her white robe, realising with a shock that it was bandages. She was a mummy. Well, he figured, that made some sort of sense. He moved towards her, noticing as he neared her that the bandages were very tight. She had a hot body under there.

James barely even noticed when he tripped over the bed. He fell softly next to the sleeping figure already there.

He stood right in front of her, looking down into her eyes. They glittered up at him, and he bent to kiss her full mouth. She kissed him back, her tongue snaking into his mouth.

James bent his head down, finding a warm mouth with pouting lips. As he moved his body closer, he felt a soft tongue sliding into his mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, he began to unwrap her bandages. His heart fluttered as he considered what he might find underneath. He smiled into her mouth as he felt the warm flesh of her back. He held her closer as he discovered more of her body.

James unwrapped the fabric in front of him, his hands sliding over the body underneath. He moved closer, feeling the touch of bare skin. He slid his arms around the figure, pressing himself closer still.

She was naked now, her skin displayed for him. He pulled her closer, their mouths melting together. Suddenly he felt something, and paused. There was another edge; he must have forgotten one of the bandages. Still kissing her, he began to unwrap it. Moving his hand to the skin underneath, he realised there was nothing there. He had unpeeled her skin and reached the dust and preserved organs underneath. He began to jump away from her, but had not even broken the kiss when he was shocked awake.

James was sure the dream was over, and yet he could still feel the Egyptian girl’s full lips against his, her soft tongue flicking into his mouth. He kissed her back for a moment before remembering the dust underneath her skin. He hastily pulled away and opened his eyes, fearing he would see a wizened mummy in front of him. In the murky half-light he could see a face: full lips, strong chin, artfully tousled hair. Holy shit, was that Charlie? James frowned. What was he doing in Charlie’s bed? He looked down. Charlie slept on, naked in his arms. A more pertinent question might be: what was he doing in Charlie’s bed, naked and kissing? This did not look good. James jerked back, falling off the edge of the bed with a thud. He peeped up over the side of the bed, praying that Charlie had not woken. Thankfully, Charlie had not even moved. He slept on, naked and curled up, his lips still warm from the kiss. James stared at Charlie’s pouting mouth. That had been a hell of a kiss. Maybe if he just… no! He shook his head violently, as if to shake out the thought. The best thing to do would be to go back to bed before anyone woke up. James stood up, brushing himself off out of habit before creeping out. He paused. What the hell had happened to him? He had scratch-marks all down his stomach. Had Charlie done that? The bastard! Maybe he’d been having one of those S&M dreams again. James frowned and tiptoed back to bed. He wondered once again at the scratches on his stomach and the weird throbbing in his neck before drifting to sleep.


Charlie’s eyelids started flickering rapidly as his dream began.

The night was black and the moon was full. He crouched lower on the rock, then stretched out his body and let out a long, low howl. He was hungry. The claws on his hands were itching to feel something other than the hard rock and sharp plants around him.

Charlie raised himself up onto his knees, swaying his head as if smelling for something. He licked his lips.

There! He could scent it. Warm flesh. He bounded towards it, the moon like an eye at his back.

He pounced off the bed, stumbling down the corridor, still twitching his head for a scent. He padded through a doorway, growling quietly.

He was close now, he could feel it. There was flesh nearby, and he would have it.


Charlie jumped up onto the bed, sniffing around the body lying there. It was warm and soft. The skin smelled musky, the hair tickled his nose as he rubbed his cheek against it.

He had flesh, right in front of him. He wanted it, wanted to devour it all. He sniffed around it before licking it with a rough tongue.

Charlie hesitantly stuck out his tongue and ran it along the neck. The skin was soft, ending in the rough stubble of the jaw.

Yes, it was flesh. Good flesh. He crouched over it, ripping off its clothes with his sharp claws.

Charlie knelt over the body, roughly tearing off its clothes with his fingernails. When the clothes were gone, he lay down on the flesh, resting his cheek against the solid chest, stroking down the stomach with his fingernails. He slid his body up, feeling the soft slither of skin on skin. He burrowed his nose into the soft neck, inhaling the scent.

He could feel it now, flesh on flesh. He ran his tongue all over it, inhaling deeply.

Charlie slid his tongue all over the flesh, nibbling gently at earlobes and nipples, sucking on lips and fingertips. He felt a hardness below the stomach, perfectly matching his own. He slid his body together with the other, stroking the twin solidities.

The flesh was hard and soft, smooth and rough. He wanted all of it, he wanted to devour it, have it all to himself.

He sucked hard on the bottom lip, letting out a soft growl. The bodies were moving together, slow and smooth. He reached up and held the wrists to the bed, pressing his lips hard against the mouth. His tongue forced its way in.

The flesh was moving beneath him. He held it down, wanting to be in control. The flesh did not decide, he did. The flesh reached up and bit him, hard. He howled, and felt a chunk of his throat rip away. He woke up still howling.

Charlie opened his eyes. He must have been having a really weird dream, because he was lying in a very uncomfortable position. In fact, the thing under him was so lumpy that it couldn’t be a bed. He raised himself up onto his knees and looked down. He frowned. He had been lying on someone. Had they been there when he fell asleep? He squinted and looked closely at the face. Matt? Why had he fallen asleep on top of Matt? He looked down. More to the point, why did he have a hard-on? He looked more closely. Why did Matt have a hard-on? And – oh shit – why were they both naked? Why was Matt covered in scratches and bite-marks? Charlie did not attempt to answer any of these questions. He skulked back to his room and promptly fell asleep, praying only that his hard-on would have disappeared by morning.


And that is the end of our sordid tale. Yes, I know it’s not really a proper ending. I think I had the boys waking up in the morning, pretending like nothing happened, and finding that the car was magically working again. It appears I didn’t bother to actually write that scene. I was 17; I obviously got bored after the dirty bits. Cue jokes.

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“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 1)

I recently promised (threatened?) that I would post some of my old slash fiction about Busted. Before we start:

“Slash fiction is a fan fiction story containing a pairing between same-sex characters.”

Busted was a British pop rock band which formed in 2000 and broke up in 2005. The band line-up originally consisted of James Bourne, Matt Willis and Charlie Simpson.”

When I was about 17, I would sit with my awesome friend Sarah and write stories about the members of Busted. It was fun. We laughed a lot. And no-one (no-one) who read them would ever think that I would have gone on to write genuine erotica stories eight years later.

Here is a photo of Busted:


Here is another photo of Busted:


Now you can see why it was an obvious leap for me to write a bunch of gay stories. So pour yourself a strong drink, get comfy in your chair, and gird your loins for the first half of this insight into a 17 year-old girl’s psyche:

“It Was A Dark And Stormy Night…” (Part 1)

There was so much rain that it seemed solid, millions of droplets combining to form a translucent wall. The wipers twitched manically across the windscreen, smearing the rain for a second before more fell in its place.

Matt was sitting so far forward in his seat that his forehead was almost touching the glass. His eyes were scrunched up and he kept muttering curses under his breath.

“I can’t see a fucking thing!” he announced, slamming his hands on the steering-wheel.

James sighed. He was tired too; he had only moved from the driver’s seat an hour ago after having driven for three hours.

“We could always stop somewhere for the night,” suggested Charlie, sitting forward so that his head was stuck between the front seats. “Or just until the storm passes.”

There was an immediate riot from the front of the car. Shouts of “there’s no time”, “we’ve come this far…” and simply “NO!” made Charlie sit back hastily in his seat and mumble assent.

There was a fresh burst of rain, and the boys jumped as thunder rumbled across the sky. It sounded like a huge drum-kit being knocked over. They each silently counted the seconds in their heads, and they hadn’t even finished ‘two’ (except Matt, who was on ‘three’ because he couldn’t be bothered with the ‘mississippi’), when lightning flickered above them.

Matt and James glanced at one another through the gloom in the car. “All right, Chazwick,” sighed Matt. “We’d better stop. We said we’d be back at the hotel by the morning, and if we’re not there Richard won’t let us go to a festival again without planning for about three years in advance. Keep an eye out and tell me if you see anywhere we could stay. Unless it’s a motel with ‘Bates’ in neon letters.”

“Or a shack with a man standing in front, wearing a leather mask and holding a chainsaw.” added James helpfully.

“Or a hotel on a hill with a maze covered in snow, and Shelley Duvall screaming like a divvy.”

“Or…” grinned James, beginning to enjoy the game.

Charlie’s voice interrupted him. “How about that?” He poked his arm through the gap between the front seats and pointed vaguely ahead. It was so dark that nothing was clearly visible, but by the area blocking the charcoal sky the boys could discern something vaguely house-shaped. They squinted up at it through the rain-clotted windscreen. Matt raised his eyebrows, James looked dubious and Charlie smiled nervously. As if punctuating their thoughts, lightning flickered angrily just as thunder raged across the sky.

“I suppose we’ll have to try it,” ventured Matt. “It might only be for a few hours.”

He slowed the car, which was already crawling due to the slickness of the road, and steered into the house’s winding driveway. The wheels crunched and squished along the dirt path, and Matt frowned.

“That’s odd, how many people do you know with dirt paths leading up to their doors? It’s not paved or anything.”

The house loomed up ahead, still hardly visible in the gloom. The car crunched to a stop and Matt switched off the engine. The only sound was the rain pounding against metal and glass. Charlie cleared his throat.

“Uh… we’d better go in, then.” He glanced hopefully up at Matt and James. They unsnapped their seatbelts and reached for the door handles.

There was a flash of lightning, and the boys saw the house, lit up as if a lamp had been flicked on. It was huge and rambling, dilapidated and ramshackle. The topmost windows were shattered, surrounded by stone gargoyles in various states of disrepair. The gargoyles leered down, beckoning with their stony fingers. Every window was dark. If they didn’t know better, they’d have said they were on the set of a cheesy horror film.

Matt and James turned around and looked at Charlie.

“On you go then, mate.” they said together.


Charlie frowned and bit his bottom lip. He unclipped his seatbelt, pulled on the door handle and stepped out into the night. Another crash of thunder sounded just as he slammed the car door.

“This bloody place just keeps getting worse,” muttered Matt as he slid out of the car.

The three boys huddled on the crumbling doorstep, each silently daring one another to knock on the door. James broke the silence.

“Oh, you guys are just crap!” he laughed, banging his fist on the door. Flakes of paint fluttered down to the step. The boys could smell the metallic tang of the paint over the earthy smell of the rain.

There was no answer to the knocking. Matt and James both raised their fists at the same time, and knocked hard on the door. It opened at the force, the hinges creaking like fingernails on a blackboard. Three pairs of eyes peered into the gloom, but saw nothing.

“Hello?” called Matt, his voice breaking to a high-pitched squeak at the end. Charlie and James laughed, and Matt hurriedly cleared his throat.

“Hey Matilda, someone might come now that they think you’re a chick,” teased James. Matt made a face at him, and all three boys called into the dark house.

Still there was no reply.

“I suppose there’s no one in,” suggested Charlie. “Maybe we could go in and sit for a bit, just until the rain stops. If someone comes home, we could offer them some money for letting us stay.”

“Yeah, or your sex-ay bod-ay, Chaz,” teased James, smacking Charlie’s bottom.

“Yeah, or that,” agreed Charlie, clearly not paying attention. He had already taken a step inside the house, and as nothing had exploded or fallen on him, the others followed.

It was dark in the house, but as the boys stood just inside the door, their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and shapes began to emerge. They could see high ceilings, tattered paintwork, gaping doorways. Cobwebbed deer heads were mounted above each doorway, leering down at them. As each recognised the deer heads, they took a step back.

“Those are the creepiest fucking things I have ever seen,” whispered James. “This place is seriously weird, maybe we should find somewhere else.”

“Like where, Jay? Did you see anywhere else? Have we passed anything even vaguely resembling civilisation in the past two hours?” whispered back Matt. “This place isn’t so creepy, anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” muttered Charlie. “Then why are you whispering?”

“I’m not!” replied Matt, in a much louder voice than was necessary. He turned around and stamped back outside, only to be soaked in a fresh deluge of rain. He crunched across the gravel, tore open the car door, slumped in the driver’s seat and folded his arms. The others quickly joined him, silently relieved that they wouldn’t have to spend another second in the house.

“Well, it’s us against the storm now.” said Matt cheerily, turning the key in the ignition.

Nothing happened.

The only sounds were the pounding of rain and the occasional growl of thunder. Matt turned the key again, more forcefully this time. Still nothing happened.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He tried the key again. Nothing.

“Shit!” he shouted. “What the fuck? It was working fine five minutes ago!” He slammed his hands on the steering-wheel.

“Matt, chill. The engine’s probably overheated or something. Give it a minute and try again.”

They sat for a few minutes, listening to the storm raging around them. Stupid jokes kept flickering through James’ brain, but every time he began to articulate one, something stopped him. Matt was repressing the urge to get out of the car and kick it as hard as he could. Charlie was humming a little song in his head.

Suddenly, as if trying to surprise the engine into starting, Matt turned the ignition key. Nothing happened. He was torn between letting out a scream and a sob, and decided on simply shouting ‘FUCK!’ as loud as he could.

“Stop it, Matt. I know we could all do with a bit of that right now, but as there don’t seem to be any Playboy bunnies in this car, we’ll just have to go without,” said James. “I, for one, am bloody freezing, so let’s just sit in that house for a bit, and see if we can have a look at the engine when the rain stops.” He put a soft hand on Matt’s arm. “OK?”

Matt sighed. “OK.”

The boys left the car and stepped hesitantly back through the gaping door.


After they had explored the majority of the house, the boys felt a little more comfortable. Not only was it empty, it appeared to have been so for quite a while. The reassurance that a manic Leatherface was unlikely to return home and chainsaw them for trespassing lifted the tension somewhat. James had even let fly some of the stupid jokes he had thought of in the car. He had received many laughs for his troubles, but he suspected they were at him rather than the jokes. The three boys had set themselves up in a large drawing room, complete with creepy deer-heads and a cavernous fireplace. The overstuffed sofas were surprisingly comfortable, after the sneezing fit incurred by the clouds of dust Matt had conjured by jumping on them. James was considering bashing Matt with the nearest threadbare cushion when Charlie spoke.

“Hey, what time is it?”

James looked up to see Charlie peering at his wristwatch.

“Mate, that thing on your wrist? Well, the little hand points to one number, and the big hand points to another, and it tells you what the time is.”

Charlie made a face. “Yes, I know, but it’s not working.” He yawned, and then sneezed at the fresh inhalation of dust.

Matt and James glanced at their watches.

“It’s two thirty,” they both said.

“It can’t be,” argued Charlie. “I looked at the dashboard clock just before we stopped, and it was 2 AM then. That was well more than half an hour ago.”

The others looked more closely at their watches, then shook their left wrists and held them up to their ears.

“Shit, mine’s broken too,” said Matt.

“And mine,” added James. “That’s the last time we buy fake Rolexes in Spain, right?”

Charlie yawned again, which set off the other two.

“I was just asking because I’m knackered. It must be getting pretty early; the sun will be up soon. Maybe we should get a bit of sleep before we set off.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest, but yawned instead.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, his eyes watering from the yawn. “But only for a little bit.”

The boys traipsed up the velvet-covered staircase into the gloom of the upper floor. They had already peeped into every room, and knew that there were plenty of beds to choose from.

Matt wordlessly took the first on the left; a vast room with faded brocade on the walls and musty velvet drapes around the bed. He climbed up onto the bed, yawning hugely, before kicking off his trainers and sprawling out like a starfish. He was snoring within seconds.

James took the room opposite, which was a smaller version of the first. He carefully placed his shoes at the foot of the bed before climbing under the heavy blankets. He looked furtively around the empty room before placing his thumb in his mouth and closing his eyes.

Charlie, who was half-asleep by this point, stumbled into the room at the end of the corridor. The only thing he noticed about the room was the huge bed, onto which he gratefully collapsed, and fell instantly asleep.


Look out for Part 2, in which the willies are unleashed…

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