Blackadder Monster Sex 05 «Direct Link»

“That’s indigestion, you troglodyte,” Edmund sighed. “Not love.”

Baldrick, watching from the shadows, nodded sagely. “See?” he whispered to the stuffed raven. “Told you. Even monsters need a turnip.”

Part One: A Most Unwelcome Throb

His sterile existence was shattered, however, by the arrival of a new neighbor: Lady Perdita von Hissingbrook, a werewolf of considerable fortune and even more considerable inconvenience. She was tall, silver-haired, and had a laugh that sounded like rocks tumbling down a mountainside. Worse, she was cheerful . Blackadder Monster Sex 05

He thought of Perdita’s laugh. Her terrible table manners. The way she’d nuzzled his cold hand once, her wolf form’s rough tongue surprisingly gentle.

Over the following weeks, Edmund found his existence invaded. Perdita would appear at his castle gates with a freshly killed deer (“Thought you might want the blood, darling. The rest is for my pups.”). She challenged him to races through the thorn forest (she won, but claimed his complaining about a torn cape was “adorable”). She even laughed genuinely at one of his sarcastic remarks about the local zombie peasantry’s work ethic.

Their first encounter was at the monthly Monster’s Masquerade, hosted by the tragically boring Lord and Lady Flensmark (a mummy and a banshee whose marriage had been a “screaming” joke for three decades). “That’s indigestion, you troglodyte,” Edmund sighed

Edmund learned of the plot during a tedious card game. He had a choice: do nothing, preserve his social standing, and watch Perdita suffer a slow, agonizing transformation into a very expensive paperweight. Or intervene, make a mortal enemy of Duke Malvolio, and potentially get his own head mounted on a pike.

She didn’t excuse him. She crossed the room, took his raw, reddened hands in her warm, calloused ones, and kissed him. It was not a gentle kiss. It was a kiss of teeth, of near-misses, of a werewolf and a vampire finding a surprisingly comfortable middle ground. For a moment, Edmund forgot to be cynical. His heart didn’t just lurch. It raced .

This last event caused Edmund a moment of profound horror. As her laugh—a genuine, warm, lupine roar—echoed off his granite walls, he felt something stir in the desiccated raisin of his chest. A thump. Then another. “Told you

Baldrick looked alarmed. “Shall I fetch the priest, my lord? Or the vet?”

Perdita only grinned, her canines lengthening. “Ooh, prickly. I like it. Want to go howl at the moon? I promise not to chase you too hard.”

It was, as Edmund would never, ever admit out loud, the least inconvenient feeling he’d ever had.