The pumpkin on the porch still had its candle lit when they got home. The kids ran ahead, their bags bumping against their legs, laughing about a ghost they had seen two houses back and a witch who had given them too many sweets. Bella followed them, her black cape trailing over the wet, leaf-strewn pavement, the tight corset cinching her waist, the red ribbons gleaming under the streetlights. Christian came behind, his long burgundy coat open just enough to show the black shirt underneath, the high collar patterned in black and silver lifting in the wind. The ornate clasps clinked softly with every step.

They had gone out just after seven. Bella had put on her vampire costume in the walk-in wardrobe while he got dressed in the bedroom. When she came out, the cape falling from her shoulders, he stopped halfway through lacing a boot.

“Are you going to scare the kids looking like that, or the parents?” he asked, his voice low.

She turned, the tight skirt hugging her hips.

“The parents,” she said. “The kids already know me.”

He laughed. He came closer and ran his hand along the high collar of her cape, his finger brushing the skin of her neck.

“And me?”

“You know me better.”

They went out. The kids went trick-or-treating along three streets. Bella crouched to help the youngest pick a sweet, the cape falling open, the corset squeezing her breasts as she leaned forward. Christian watched. He said nothing. He just stood a little closer when she straightened up. At one house, a neighbour admired his coat.

“You look like you’ve stepped out of a film,” he said.

Christian smiled.

“That’s the idea.”

Bella gave him a sideways look. Her hand brushed his as they stepped back onto the pavement. They didn’t let go straight away. On the way home he slipped his arm around her waist under the cape. His hand settled on her hip, his thumb brushing the red ribbon of her corset. She didn’t pull away. The kids walked ahead, chattering. The two of them hung back a little.

When they got home, the kids were still talking. Bella took them upstairs, sent them to brush their teeth, tucked them into bed and switched off the light. Christian stayed in the hallway, undoing two of the clasps on his coat. The collar fell open over the black shirt. When she came back down, her hair already loose, the cape still on her shoulders, he was standing at the door of the walk-in wardrobe.

“Come in,” he said.

She went in. The sliding door closed behind her. Inside, the air was warm and smelled of fabric and of the perfume she had put on before they went out. Hangers on either side. The mirror at the far end. The dim light from the bedroom reaching only as far as the doorway. Christian had already thrown his coat and trousers onto the armchair and was unbuttoning his shirt. Bella took off her cape, and then her skirt.

He didn’t speak. He was taking her in.

Bella noticed.

“So, enjoying the view?”

He came closer. His mouth closed over hers. His tongue pushed in, hot, insistent. She answered with the same force. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the muscle, the heat of his skin, the thin film of sweat. He pressed her back against the hanging clothes. His other hand slid down her back. The corset was still laced tight. Her breasts rose and fell. Her nipples, already hard, pressed against the fabric.

His hands slid down over the cups and found her nipples. He pulled her breasts free. The corset stayed on, cinching her waist and pushing her breasts up. He lowered his head. His mouth closed over a nipple. His tongue circled it, slowly, and tugged. She arched her back. Her head knocked against the fabric of the clothes. His hand went lower and found her black knickers. His fingers slipped under the elastic. Smooth skin, hot, already wet. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger inside. She held her breath. His finger curled and pressed. She moaned softly. Her hands gripped his shoulders. The corset kept squeezing her breasts with every movement.

He pulled his finger out. He brought it to his mouth and sucked it. Then he knelt between her legs. He pulled her knickers aside, spread her legs and put his mouth on her. His tongue ran along her slit, parted her swollen lips, found her clit and closed over it. He sucked. Steady pressure, then harder. His fingers went back in, two of them, curling. She grabbed his hair. Her hips moved. The wet sound filled the wardrobe. Her juices ran over his fingers. He sucked deeper. His free hand rose and squeezed a breast, his thumb on the nipple. Her clit throbbed. More wetness. She pulled his hair. The moan caught in her throat.

He stood up. His mouth glistened. His black boxers were stretched tight. She knelt. She pulled the waistband down. His cock sprang free, thick, veins showing, the head glistening with pre-cum. She closed her hand around the base and drew the skin back. The head bare. Her tongue slid from the base to the tip, circled, slipped into the slit and gathered the drop. Her mouth closed. Her lips slid down. Her cheeks hollowed. She sucked, rose, sank. Her hand on what her mouth couldn’t reach. Her tongue on the vein. He braced a hand on the clothes rail. His hips moved. His cock slid in and out. The head pushed against the inside of her cheek. She took him deeper. The head touched her throat. Out. In again. Pre-cum mixed with spit and ran down her chin. She sucked his balls, her tongue sliding, her hand moving up and down. His cock throbbing.

He pulled her up. Kissed her. Turned her to face the mirror. The corset still on, her breasts out. He lifted one of her legs and set her foot on the armchair. He guided his cock. The head touched her lips, parted them, slipped inside. Slowly. In the mirror she watched his head drop, his mouth on her neck. His cock filled her. She could feel the veins. When his balls touched her, he stopped. He pulled almost all the way out. Pushed back in. A slow rhythm. Her breasts swayed. The mirror showed his cock disappearing, sliding out wet, going back in. Her lips gripping him. His hand went down, his fingers on her clit, circling. She pressed her hands to the mirror. Her breath fogged the glass. Sweat on her back. The corset rocking. He sped up. Deeper thrusts. The wet sound. The head of his cock hitting deep. Her breasts bouncing. Her nipples in the air. The mirror showing his cock going in and out, her breasts moving, the wetness shining.

Without stopping, Christian reached for the lube and let a little drip onto her ass. It ran down between her cheeks, down to his cock as it kept sliding in and out. He ran a finger through the lube and pressed slowly against her ass. Bella moaned. It was intense. His finger slipped in a little. She took her foot off the armchair, planted both feet on the floor and pushed her ass back. Christian pulled out of her pussy and slid his cock up and down between her cheeks, gathering the lube, until it stopped at her tight entrance. He pressed. The head pushed. It went in slowly, centimetre by centimetre. Bella held her breath, then let out a low moan. He buried himself as deep as he could. He gripped her hips and started to move. The angle was different, tighter. The mirror showed her face, her mouth open, her breasts swinging forward. He sped up. His hand went down, found her clit and rubbed it while he fucked her ass. She pushed back against him.

“You’re so tight,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Keep going,” she said. “Don’t stop.”

The heat kept rising. His cock slid in her ass, hot, slick. Her own wetness ran down her thighs. Sweat trickled down her back. She moaned louder. Her muscles clenched.

Bella straightened up, swept the clothes off the armchair onto the floor and knelt on it, her ass in the air.

“Fuck me hard,” she said. “Finish me off.”

Christian pushed back in, deep. He picked up the pace. One hand on her breasts, the other on her clit. The corset cinched her waist. Her breasts swung. The sound of skin on skin filled the wardrobe.

“Go on,” she said. “I’m close.”

“Me too,” he said. “It feels so good.”

She pushed back. He drove in deeper. The orgasm rose in both of them at once. She clenched. He buried himself. His cock pulsed. He came in hot spurts inside her. She moaned. When he pulled out, his cum began to run down between her cheeks and down her thigh.

Her hand went back. It closed around his cock, still wet. She drew the skin back. The head gleamed. She milked him slowly until the last drop came out, spreading it over her ass. His cum glistened on her skin.

They stayed like that for a moment. Breathing hard. Sweat. The corset still on. The mirror fogged.

“Let’s have a shower,” she said. “Clean up the crime scene.”

He laughed softly.

“Let’s.”

On the wardrobe mirror, the marks of her hands and the fog of her breath stayed behind. By the front door, the bags of sweets waited for the morning. The rest of Halloween night was for the shower.

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