Dracul finds the kid high up on the fire ladder, outside the familiar window. On the regular spot where the boy can be found almost every night, gazing longingly in through the glass with tired eyes, hidden by the darkness when the lights are on on the inside. He sits there, silently observing the motions of the everyday life.
All the ups and downs the family on the inside are living, completely unaware of their peeping Tom sitting outside in the cold.
Dracul can’t help but to be drawn in by the boy’s beauty, even as the thin skin stretched over those pretty features is a sickingly grey in the dimming light of the dying day. The honey coloured hair greasy and sticky, heavily clinging to his scalp. He still looks alluringly soft to touch. His skin, his hair.. those pink, almost white lips.
Yes, there is something about this boy that makes him stop and stare.. unable to look away.
The family isn’t home now. Haven’t been home for almost a week, so the kid has curled up outside their window, like a lost puppy waiting for its master, shivering in the cool air. Dracul knows he’s been there for a long time, probably since the morning, breaking the rules by coming over before the heavy cloak of night can hide him. Maybe he hopes that they will spot him? See him lying so cold and broken outside their warm nest when they come home. If they come home. Have pity on him and bring him inside.
Dracul remains in the shadows, waiting for them to stretch longer and longer over the wet pavement; watching as they chase away the last glimmer of light. Anticipating the moment where the world will be cast in the moon’s chilly embrace. So he can walk over to the still form of his fascination, his prey.
He can feel his hunger. His beast lying dormant. So, so close to the surface. He has been up for a while now. Slipping from shadow to shadow. Watching the city bustle around him, smelling the sheep, his food. But he only wants this. This single meal. Nothing else matters. Ever since he first smelled this one, it has developed into quite the little obsession for him, and he has no idea what it is. He only knows that he needs the other, needs to taste him, feel him.
Oh yes.. that soft skin looks so perfect to bite, pierce, suck..lick. He snickers softly. He’ll probably get a buzz from the boy’s blood if he drinks from him now. So much drugs in his system, too much. Judging by the way the boy is breathing, so shallow, sweat beading on his upper lip. Oh yes, he has definitely overdone it today, too much of the synthetic feelings injected. But not enough, he will still wake from his slumber. And when he does.. a smile creeps over the vampire’s cold features.
For over a month now, the vampire has observed this boy. Wanting. And it’s so unlike him, to feel like this.. it’s almost unnerving. Seeing the boy’s loneliness has triggered something inside his own body. A new feeling, so foreign and unfamiliar its almost frightening.
Loneliness..yes, for the first time in over a hundred years, the cold vampire feels completely and utterly alone, Suddenly, its not so fun playing the immortal god anymore. Even as he makes his victims scream in fear, wriggle uselessly in his grip as he crush their bones with his hands, watching the life drain from their eyes. He feels nothing.
Or.. there is something, something new. Something stirring in the center of his very core, something hot, consuming.. the image of the boys weak frame haunting his dreams.
“Fuck..” He curses low, whispering under his breath as he stops to stare at the seemingly lifeless body.
Was it worry he just felt? Even when he know that the boy is alive, can see the blood coursing through those blue veins, so deliciously close to his thin skin, the blood flowing whenever the heart thuds weakly..but still, he feels worried. “Shit..”
He knows this is a stupid thing to do, to go closer.
The best thing would probably be to just kill the boy and walk away. Snapp his neck and leave him behind, forgotten, but he finds himself unable to look away, to just walk away.And to hurt him? Dracul feels his face pull down in a painfull way before he shakes it off. No.. he needs to explore this a little more, figure out what makes him feel so warm, boiling…
So… not dead.
Dracul figures he just need to taste the boy, his blood. One taste to satisfy these confusing feelings, and it will all be alright, like it should be.
He slips up the steep bars without a sound. His feet just barely touching the creaking ladder. Defying gravity in a mocking gesture of just barely touching the red metal with his feet, his hands just almost touching the metal on either side of him, only imitating climbing. Mocking gravity. Like water running the wrong way, he glides up.
He crouches beside the still boy, reaching out to swipe his fingers through the damp, honey coloured hair. Feeling the skin of the other so hot against his cold hand. Too hot.. while the heat is dissipating from the boy’s fingers and feet, too much blood rushed to his heart and vital organs, keeping him alive. His body still fighting to live, even as his consciousness is lost to the drugs racing through his system. Poisioning him.
Dracul wrinkles his nose in disgust, the boy really reeks. ‘Why the hell do I even feel attracted to this street rat?’ but even as he thinks it with his nose crinkling, his eyes soften. His fingers brushing through damp locks again.
Usually; When he first decides to go hunt, instead of using one of the many willing donors in this corrupted city of the apple. He’ll go for something a bit more.. sophisticated, something a bit more pure, clean. Sober. Preferably someone who can offer him a fight, a will to live. This boy has none, wasting his life on drugs.
He can smell the chemicals seep through the other’s skin, chemicals and sweat.. mingled with grime and dirt. ‘Yummy..’ his mind makes the remark in a sarcastic voice. Maybe he should take him home, soak him in the bath first..give him some food, sober him up.
Play a little..
Oh yes, they all look special when they cry. The beautiful looking even more enchanting as snot and saliva grow thick with fear. Tears running, blood rushing, the red candy surfacing closer to the skin as every muscle tense in fear. The fear making them stronger, but never strong enough.. oh no. Just enough to make it a little more fun.
Maybe that’s what he needs? Maybe that’ll help him get over these new feelings disrupting his usual calm. To play a little….
Dracul loves to toy with his prey. Like a cat with a mouse. Giving them glimmers of hope, making their blood boil before he strikes. ‘Hmmmm..’ He smiles, worrying his lip between his sharpened teeth. Making a decision.
The boy is surprising light in his arms. And he fits perfectly in his embrace, head resting in the crook of Dracul’s neck as he carries him swiftly through the dirty streets. Still keeping to the shadows, even when it’s dark. Only the artificial lights from the buzzing streetlights and countless neon signs giving a false sense of security to the people scattering through the darkening streets of New York.
No one sees him. He has made it an art to slip through the dark like this. Only using the side alleys. Going so, so fast. The people he brushes past not even noticing him. The only clue to his passing; the goosebumps raising on their skin as ice settles in their stomach. Something they will mistake as unconditioned fear of the dark overwhelming them. He knows..he’s seen it a hundred times, heard them whisper reassuringly to themselves “Silly..” before they hum a soft tune in an attempt to ignore their basic instinct to run..
‘Seriously, people should start listening to their instincts more..’
Dracul stops suddenly, his body going stiff as slender arms suddenly wrap themselves around his neck. The boy suddenly clinging to him, cuddling a cold nose against his even cooler neck, soft whimpers making the vampire frown before he shifts the body a little, pressing the boy closer. He doesn’t realize it as he starts humming softly, chasing the nightmares away with his soft murmurs. His step a little more careful now as he is climbing up a rickety fire escape, not that different from the one he found the boy in. Not even bothering to satisfy gravity by mimic human climbing now.
His apartment is cold, since he is already dead, technically.He really doesn’t need the heat to feel comfortable. He’s not even sure if the heater works. He frowns in puzzlement when he starts turning the little white knob to his panel oven. Not really knowing why he feels the need to make it more comfortable for the boy when he intends to kill him when he is cleaned up anyway.
But he turns on the heat regardless, flipping on some lights before wandering over the polished livingroom tiles into his bedroom, placing the boy on the black satin covers. The boy whimpers when he tries to pull back from the hold, gripping him closer.
“Shh..it’s okay. I won’t lea..” He stops himself mid sentence, realizing what he was about to say.
The vampire stands motionless again, staring with crimson eyes down at the still form still clinging on to him, the softness of the other so hot against his icy skin .The boy’s breathing isn’t as heavy as it was mere seconds ago, his heart not so slow, and Dracul knows that the boy is surfacing from his deadly slumber.
And that new feeling arises in his gut again, washing over him tenfold of what it was before. something akin to panic mingling with the new feeling. How will he react to this new place? To him? Yes.. how will he react to his crimson eyes, his elongated teeth and nails? To his icy cold skin and, and; oh god.. ‘How did I fake breathing again? And why the hell do I even care? Shit..’ Dracul tries to order himself to move, but finds himself unable to. Icy blue is staring at him from drowsy eyes. And Dracul finds himself drowning..
The moment his eyes locks with the others; he ignites, self combusting. His entire being catching in a smoldering fire that races throughout and inside his being. Sizzling his every nerve ending. Hot fire dancing fast all the way from the roots of his hair and down to his toes, exploding in his fingertips where they dig into scolding hot skin. Unknowingly sending jolts of pleasure through the other. And oh god! his stomach, his soul, his very core is jolted as that image, that beautiful face burnes itself into his memory. A perfect imprint left in his heart.. he is sure of it. And it makes him sick. Dead fish flopping helplessly in his stomach. Sending a rotten taste to cover his tongue. A longing settling inside him, and he just wants to cry.
How could he react so strong to a stranger? A human. A boy none the less. It was confusing, exciting and maddening all at the same time. But judging by the look on the other’s boyish features, he has noticed too. Those icy blue eyes wide with wonder and awe. Lightly chapped lips hanging slightly ajar..pale skin growing even paler.
Was it fear?
A massive hangover?
But when that first tear fall down a dirty trek of skin, worming its way slowly down a grey tinted cheek. Dracul instincts screams at him to run away, while at the same time; this fucking new sensation is filling him to the brim – making him sick, giddy, nervous. It isn’t right. Isn’t how it was supposed to be. And; oh god, how easy this boy can hurt him now…Now that he can’t even imagine himself striking down on this innocence that lie here before him in the dimming light. Can’t imagine losing someone like this. Now that he has found him.
Never had he dreamt he’d meet somebody like him, and never could he even imagine losing him. Just the thought of that hurts too much.
The hunter has become the hunted..the deadly predator caught in a tangled snare wound painfully around his dead heart. The other’s eyes holding him captive. Those all seeing eyes burning him, hurting him. Making his cold heart beat in a painful way.
He knows what this is, has felt it once before. So, so very long ago that he hasn’t been able to recognize the feeling for what it was. Not before the fire consumed him, drowning him. He didn’t even think he could feel like this anymore, now that his human soul was gone.
And oh god no, he didn’t want to fall in love with this weak boy, this half dead beauty that looks at him with such tired, but curious blue eyes. Not even a trace of fear in them now, just pure wonder, puzzlement. But then again, Dracul supposes that the boy has nothing left to fear, clearly he isn’t afraid of dying, welcomes it even, so why should he fear him?
The silent vampire shifts on his feet, transferring his weight from one foot to the other, shifting the boy slightly in his arms. Filling his lungs before puffing out a breath to make his ruffled bangs clear away from his eyes. Useless. The chocolate brown strands falling back down seconds later to tickle his brow, and he notes that the boy is still holding him tight, those frail hands still shaking against his neck. He knows this is a foolish thing to do. But how can he resist? He knows the boy isn’t some pet.. isn’t even food anymore. But he can’t let him go.. something is horribly wrong. So, so wrong.Because Dracul isn’t supposed to feel. Isn’t supposed to be feeling anything but selfish things. Feelings that is strictly bound to his pleasure, his needs.. his wants. The world, humans..those filthy pests. He spits the last word out in his mind. God! He hates them.. so fucking much. So why the hell is he feeling so warm, so fuzzy.. like he wants to protect the other, this.. this weak human?
So he lifts the boy experimentally closer, that hot breath just barely fanning over his face now. Icy blue staring into his own blazing red. And then those lips are pressed against his, and even though they’re chapped and dry, it jolts something deep within the vampire. That all consuming heat washing over him, drowning him. But this fire isn’t like the other one, the needy one. Oh no.. this fire feels welcomed, soothing, chasing away that hurt that threatened to linger in his core. He is touching the other, feeling him, holding him close. Kissing him. And the other is kissing him back. Like a little child testing a new thing, a new taste. That slick muscle sneaking into his mouth, rubbing against and around his tastebuds. Sneaking against his gums and teeth. Breath coming out in heavy puffs against the vampire’s upper lip. Soft whimpers slipping out in between the heated kisses.
Dracul concentrates when the first drop of blood dribbles into his mouth, coating his tongue. The other giving a start as he nicks himself on sharp teeth.
“Sh-shiiit..” Dracul whispers. The beast flaring up inside him, the blood tasting like the finest of vines. Like a melting orgasm blowing through him from head to toe. With a growl he pins the other under him, sucking at that bleeding muscle. Feeling the other’s hardness against his thigh. Rocking against it. And it feels so good, so tempting.
He has to get away. Has to let go.. because if he doesn’t stop now, he’ll never be able to. The hunger too strong now, now that he hasn’t fed for so long. The other is lost under him. Moaning, writhing. So deliciously responsive. And so lost in the vampire’s spell, he won’t be able to tear himself free. Like a maggot on a hook.
Dracul cries out with a growl as he pushes himself up and away from the bed. Landing on the opposite side of the room. Wiping away the excess blood from his lips with a shaky hand, his eyes wide with fear.
‘I almost lost him..’
His initial feelings of shock and soft fear is subsiding. Anger taking over.. ah yes. That feels much better. Anger he knows.. but it still doesn’t help against his need. That need flaring up again now that he isn’t so close to the other. His need to touch the other, to feel that warmth, to stop the fire consuming him.
And it hurts him to realize he needs the other…needs him to take this burning away. This addicting fire that makes him feel alive for the first time in a very, very long time. And oh god, even the idea of losing the other hurts.
Dracul sighs heavily.. scoffs, before growling low in his throat while he stares at his feet, shifting his weight again, cursing himself. He is afraid, afraid to look the other in the eyes. And he is too cowardly to look up again, terrified of that burning fire.. “Don’t you fucking go anywhere..I need to eat, and unless you want to be dessert, I suggest you stay just where you are. And don’t fucking touch anything..”
The boy nods numbly, his face still twisted in astonishment. His mouth and chin a light pink from the smeared blood. But his eyes look heavy, tired. His body shaking, a look of pain flickers over his face, confusing the vampire yet again with the feeling of pity. Scoffing angrily when he realizes that it bothers him that the other feels pain. ‘How fucking pathetic.’ Dracul growls before he reluctantly reaches out with his mind, touching the other’s.. caressing him, making him relax, the pain subsiding as sleep reaches for him in misty red tendrils, tugging at his consciousness. Seconds later finds the boy sleeping heavily again, curled up on the bed. And the vampire slips silently back out the window.
Heavy eyelids crack open to reveal a pair of ice blue, bloodshot eyes. The thin skin under the tired eyes the colour of blue pearls on the palest skin possible, making it seem almost translucent.
The boy groans. It’s hard to breathe, his tongue feels thick.. sticking to the roof of his mouth. Groaning again he grabs his head, tugging at his short locks of honey golden hair. Letting the sting of pain wake him, assure him that he’s still alive. The world is spinning, his skull spinning. He chokes on the breath of air he drags into his lungs and gags. Rolling over to lean over the side of the unknown bed, only foam and clear liquid coming from his empty stomach as he heaves painfully, tears forced from his eyes.
He blinks tiredly, letting his eyes roam over the naked room. Specks of dust hanging almost still in the cold air, dancing in the thin white beams of light that slips in through a single opening in one of the many windows, letting him know that it’s day. The two other windows completely covered up with something that looks like heavy metallic plates.
It’s nothing new.. to wake up in unknown places. Unknown places with unfamiliar people. But he finds the windows disturbing. But not disturbing enough to make him get up from the comfortable bed. He barely even notices the high standard of the room. The satin sheets. The expensive wallpaper, the thick kind, that feels like velvet with a deep red pattern climbing across it. Huge Chinese vases filled with lilies, filling the air with a soft scent.
Black tiles on the floor, with a drain in the middle..like the one you’d normally find in showers.
‘Wait…. A drain? Why would anyone need a drain in their bedroom?’ The boy frowns, that unsettling feeling returning again, a little stronger this time. But still not enough to make him worry overly much. He’s woken up worse places. As long as he doesn’t see any surgical tools, he’ll be okay.
He feels his heart thud faster again, painful.
He needs a hit, needs his high. Doesn’t really matter from what. But he needs to feel weightless again. He can’t take the thoughts and feelings overwhelming him now that his mind isn’t fogged up. His body hurts, like some beast is ripping him into tiny shreds, the physical pain not even close to the psychological hurt raging through his whole being. “Fuck..” He stumbles from the bed. Falling to his knees when his toes touch the cool tiles.
The shockwave from hitting the hard floor wrecking his frame, rattling his teeth.
Its cold.. so fucking cold in the room. How the hell can someone live so luxurious, and not keep any heat on?
And when did he get undressed? He frowns as he runs his hands down his body, noting with dread that he has been bathed and cleaned while unconscious ,the sweet smell of soap still lingering on his skin. His hair soft and clean, curling up behind his ears and on his neck now that the grime and fat isn’t sagging it down.
“Hello?” His voice feels raw. Barely a whisper. Fuck! His feet feels like jelly when he tries to stand again. And he slumps helplessly against the bed. Sitting defeated on the floor. feeling the chill seep into his skin.
a light glimmers in his eyes when he finds his jeans on the floor, right next to where he is sitting slumped but the hope is killed when the pockets turn emtpy.
Tears well up when he can’t find his stash. He knows he put it in his pocket, that and his lighter..but there is only one bag there, an old one, he knows it’s empty, only a thin layer of white powder left on the inside. He rips it open and licks it, desperate in his need. Hands shaking.
He savours the chemical taste. But it isn’t enough. He wants more, needs more..
Without the familiar buzz he feels too empty, faithless and scared.
He doesn’t really know why he keeps clinging on. Why he absolutely has to go on. Or where he finds the strength. He’s been on his own for as long as he can remember, and he’s got nothing left to lose.
His soul was broken a long time ago. When his father climbed into bed with him when he was six. He can still recall the feeling of that heavy body pressing him down. The smell of booze on his father’s breath.
How his mother stood motionless in the doorway, watching, shock and disbelief on her face as she did nothing..
He shakes his head, lighting up a joint he thankfully found in his back pocket. Just the feeling of the paper between his lips making him feel better.
The smoke coils inside his chest, in his solar plexus, seeping through his lungs. Making him feel numb, weightless, bare.. perfect.
He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the frame of the massive bed, feeling the cold tiles under his ass, thinking maybe he should climb back in under the warm blankets. He manages to think the thought. See himself doing it, but it seems like a heavy task. It’s such a long way.. He smiles softly to himself, gripping behind him for the blanket.letting it fall over his upper body, cruling it around himself. ‘There.. better already..’
Inside his mind he is slowly drifting of to a better place. He can picture a place where he is wanted. Needed. Somewhere he gets to sit on the inside, instead of being the peeping Tom standing out in the cold looking in.
As often as he can, he climbs a rusty fire escape to one special window in the bustling city. He can sit there for hours, just looking in. Staring at the little family of four on the other side of the cold glass. Wishing, so bitterly, that he was born into a family like that, instead of his own sick verison of one.
He snorts.. how ironic. His name is Tom, the silliest name ever. He hates it. It brings back memories. Memories of that dark voice whispering to him in the dark. “That’s a good boy Tom..shh.” So he calls himself TC… even sillier. He knows, but it doesn’t give him nightmares. Besides.. she gave him that name. So innocent and pure, with her hair always braided. Dress immaculate. His first real kiss, behind the great oak on the top of the hill. He had tried to scribble their names in the hard bark. But he had only gotten her name ‘Sally’ , a T and an half O before his mother had called him in for dinner. And that’s how he got his nickname.. TC.
He ran away from home almost a year ago, and has let his mind and body deteriorate ever since, why should he care? He has nothing, no one..
There was someone. Yesterday.. hazy memories drifts to the front of his mind. A shadow standing so almost visible behind his mind’s eye. Yes.. someone kissed him. That boy.. that pale boy, with the weird eyes, and he cut his tongue.. Didn’t he? It’s all so scrambled.. almost like a dream, and still not.
TC traces his teeth with the tip of his tongue. And sure enough, there is a sting. A little jolt of pain letting him know that, indeed.. he has a cut there.
‘How the hell do you cut yourself kissing? The guy have razor blades hidden in his mouth or something?’ TC had heard about motherfuckers like that.. crazy son of a bitches hiding knifes, guns and whatnot wherever they could find space for it.
As if on cue. The door opens and a pale figure glides through. Yes, glides.. the boy doesn’t even seem to be touching the ground as he walks. Those red eyes darting around the room, almost like he’s looking for something.
The boy is wearing a black silk shirt, and it reeks of money, expensive shit.. the top three buttons open, revealing a slice of hairless pale chest. It’s a nice chest.. just a little build to it, but not much. The bottom three are open too.. almost like the guy just threw it on before he walked into the room. Washed out jeans is hugging his hips, hanging low, revealing a very distinct V-line. And damned if TC doesn’t find him sexy.
So pale, so cold. Crimson eyes still looking everywhere but him.
TC chuckles, blowing out a heavy white cloud. “Where’s the danger red eyes? Coz I ain’t seeing none..”
The other sends a frown his way before he heads over to him. TC finding it hard to stop his chuckle again when the red eyed boy graciously walks in an arch to avoid the little beam of sun that stretches across the black tiles.
His mirth is cut short when the other snatches his joint from him and crushes it in his hand.
“Hey!! Fuck you! motherfucker.. That’s mine you asshole!”
“Watch your tongue before I snatch it out.” The tone makes TC flinch. That voice.. so cold. Snapping without really making an effort. Sending chills down TC’s spine. He finds himself settling back down with a pout on his mouth. Somehow, he doesn’t even question that this boy wouldn’t snatch his tongue out. And he can’t help but to pull his legs up to his chest, feeling safer that way, when the other settles down next to him in the cold room, handing over a carton of chocolate milk, a little white straw with a bend to it sticking up from the opening.
They sit so close that they’re almost touching.. almost.
They sit there like that for several minutes. TC pouting, sipping on the chocolate milk, feeling that restlessness returning. While the other says nothing. Sitting so, so still. Like he isn’t even breathing.
TC shivers when he can’t hear the other breathe.. Can’t even feel any heat from his body. Something is wrong with this boy.. it’s like sitting next to a corpse. And he’s seen one before. Not more than two months ago. His mother had looked so serene, lying there without a single frown on her otherwise worried face. And he could see that she wasn’t there.. whatever made her *her* was gone. Leaving only a husk behind. An empty shell.
He still hated her..
But that didn’t matter anymore.. that was then and he had other issues at hand right now.
This boy.. He seems like something in between. Not dead, but still.. not alive. TC let his eyes slide over to the other. Observing him.. the boy sitting just like him, resting his head on his arms, looking right at him. And it makes TC’s heart jolt when he catches that inquiring gaze with his own eyes.
“What’s your name?” The other’s velvety voice fills him, making him relax, soothing his soul. Just a whisper and the pain from not having any real drugs in his system subsides. Like a little river swallowed by an ocean. So much more satisfying.. TC would willingly drown in that voice.. And that scares him. Only one question and he finds himself willing to let down his walls.
‘What the hell is up with this guy?’
“Not the chatterbox are we? My name is Dracul, this is my apartment.. I found you yesterday, on the fire escape. Do you remember?” The other smirks at TC. And oh god, how fucking trancendant it makes him feel. That look in the others crimson eyes. Like he knows exactly what he’s thinking. Why he isn’t answering..
‘Too fucking captivated.’
“Now you’re just being rude..”
“I-I’m sorry. You just.. I dunno. TC.. that’s my name I mean. TC. It’s short for Tom. Well, not short for it.. but it’s a nickname.. you can call me that.. TC.” Oh god! He would happily bash his head in with a hammer if he could. So fucking embarrassing. Who the hell rambles like that?
He can feel how his face heats up. And now, the other is smiling. And what a smile.. so beautiful, sinister.. like he knows something the world is oblivious to. And if TC didnt know better. He’d say he was sitting right next to a vampire right now. But that was just silly talk..
“What? um… Who are you?”
“Me? I’m Batman..” The other deepens his voice, making it darker as he hisses out the answer, making TC laugh.. succesfully blowing away all the tension between them.
A delicate eyebrow arches, that omnious smile widening, making something deep within TC tingle in delight. Letting the smallest of smiles play at his lips. Even when he feels insecure about the other, he can’t help but feel relaxed.
“Where did you get those lenses anyway?”
“Heh.. What makes you think Im’ wearing lenses?”
“What?” TC lets out a bark of a laugh “You’re supposed to be a vampire or something?”
The other just smirks again, before that velvety voice soothes over TC again, tugging at his will. “Straddle my lap.” and just like that TC can’t resist. Doesn’t have a chance to *not do* as the other tells him.
The other feels cold beneath him. So cold, but still.. so fucking hot. Like his skin is on fire. Because wherever TC touches the other, sizzling fire races through him. And he can’t help the little gasp that escapes his mouth when the other puts his hands on his neck, pulling him closer.
Cold fingers travel up and down his spine in a soft pattern, going up, down, up again; tangling in his hair before tugging lightly, making him bow his neck – like in an offering to the other. And he gasps as his eyes flutter shut from the little sting, the excitement. He can feel how his dick grows hard. And he knows the other can feel it, see it. Hell, if this Dracul kid really is a vampire. He can probably smell it.
And oh god.. he sits there.. so high strung on the anticipation. Because he can feel the others cold body beneath his, cool lips on his neck. A moist tongue darting out to lick a long languid line up his jugular. And then, oh fuck.. that sound. It’s so fucking sensual. A low purring sound coming from the other’s chest. And TC can do nothing more then to sit there and be putty in the other’s arms. Waiting, waiting for a kiss.. for a touch, anything but the light teasing.
And finally he can feel cool breath on his chin, neck, in his ear. “You smell like no other.. I have no idea how you can do this to me. But for the first time in a very long time.. I really don’t want to kill someone who smells this good. I just know you’ll taste like a fucking angel. And angels taste really good. But I just can’t make myself to pierce this precious skin of yours without your permission. So, so wicked of you..”
“Um.. t-hah-anks?” He swallows hard several times. Rocking his hips now. How the hell is he supposed to refrain from it? The devil is playing with him,showering him with soft caresses, and for the first time, he feels warm. Wanted..
and it’s so fucking stupid..
How can he feel like this for someone he’s never met? Someone he’s never talked to.. only kissed. The guy thinks he’s a freaking vampire for heavens sake.
TC groans when he realizes that he is very much willing to believe that too.. no human can be this cool, this elegant… this fucking addicting.
Never had he dreamt he’d meet someone like this. So perfect.. like a God. Like a drug.. ‘Like a fucking vampire..’
He can feel the other in his mind, like little golden tendrils of pleasure corrupting his system, fogging up his mind alongside the maddening lust making him forget the sickness of the drugs. “Wh-what are you doing to me?”
“I’m rolling your mind…. I don’t want a druggie lover. And you’re still too young to change. So I’ll make you want me, and only me..”
TC frowns, biting his lip between his teeth to keep from moaning again. Dracul has finally let his neck go, and those hands is now on his ass, kneading, massaging, spreading..
“I-I’m old enough.. I’m 18.. You don’t look that much older yourself..Mmm..”
A soft chuckle sends a new delightful shiver down TC’s spine, curling his toes. “I’m 367.. but you’re right. I was sired when I was only 17, one month before my 18th birthday. But you’re still so short. How tall are you? 165cms?”
TC can’t help his reaction, ignoring the insult. Stopping his rocking, hanging his head low. Threading his fingers through the other’s he can feel how they feel almost like dead branches between his. Cold.. but then they move.. squeezing his hand, so alive.. so real, and TC can’t really picture himself holding any other hand in his. Never. Not after this.. and when he looks up. His eyes meet the other’s. And he see the soft smile splayed over the others ethereal face, filling him with a comforting warmth.
“Are all vampires as handsome as you?”
“No..I’m special..” A wicked expression flitters over the vampire’s face.. making TC laugh again.
Seconds later finds TC on his back in the middle of the huge bed, winded but still smiling, the deadly predator hovering over him. Pressing him down into the mattress while he breathes heavily into his ear, whispering sins silently while he rocks his hips, grinding down, letting TC feel a hard dick rubbing against his own. Making TCs heart thud painfully in his chest. Racing.
The fact that the other is still dressed and he’s not, turning him on even more.
Normally, TC hates to lie like this.. to be restrained and pressed down. Too many bad memories, sickening scenes flying through his mind. Of how his dad would do this.. lie on him like this, press him down, suffocate him as he pressed inside.
But Dracul is nothing like his dad. Oh no. He can’t be compared..and for the first time in a really long time, TC doesn’t mind being touched, not at all. The other feels so light lying on top of him.. and so not like his father.. Dracul’s body feels cool against his skin, his touches feathery soft.. so delicate..
TC lies there, silently.. just observing the other as he explores his upper body.
Cold fingers running fast and light over his trembling flesh while crimson eyes takes in every damned move, gasp and tremble he makes. Goosebumps running wild over his skin. And oh god, it’s such a fucking turn on. The way the other looks at him, like he is a new toy, something precious, wanted..
TC has to struggle not to beg for more. Just the look on the other’s face enough to make him go crazy with need. Those crimson eyes lost in the small dips and swells of his chest, his ribs, abs. The softer skin on the inside of his arms.
“What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.” The other smiles at him. “You always reminded me of that song.. silly huh?”
TC whimpers, unable to form a coherent answer, only a strangled “No..” falling from his lips, his hips rocking gently against the other when the vampire leans down to lay a subtle kiss in his armpit, kissing his way down to the inside of his elbow. Sharp teeth nibbling on the skin there.
“Fuck, I can feel your heart against my lips, fluttering. Like a caged moth.” Crimson eyes seem a little darker when the vampire glances up, still kissing, licking. Heading down to his wrist, taking a deep drag there, just over his pulse. “Aah.. so tempting.”
TC shivers, his dick so achingly hard, a burning coil of golden strings lurching in his stomach. How the hell could he be so close just from this? These small kisses? He shakes his head, the golden strings running throughout his entire being letting up a little. “Bite me..please..”
The vampire groans, letting a shiver run through him. A drag of breath catching as he licks the sensitive skin.
The bite stings a little, then there is bliss.. Euphoric bliss racing through TC and he lets out a puppylike whimper, reaching for the other with his free hand, running his fingers through dark brown hair, pressing the other closer. Loving the feel of that hot mouth sucking at his skin, drinking him, a soft tongue slipping out to lick at the wound. Feeling so fucking good.
Just when he starts feeling lightheaded, the vampire stops. Licking his lips, moaning at the taste. “So fucking good..I could drink you dry. But I won’t.. You’re far too precious to me.”
Then those cold hands are doing wicked things with his chest, sides, the insides of his arms.. nipples again. TC can’t help but let the moan he’s been biting back, arching his back slightly, his own fingers fumbling clumsily with the other’s belt buckle. Dracul suckling at his earlobe, kissing down his neck.
And then that cool mouth is on his lips, kissing him. TC gasps, kissing back with all he’s got, ignoring the metallic taste lingering in the other’s hot cavity .Desperately pressing himself closer. Needing to touch as much as he can. He abandons the damned belt buckle in favour of getting his fingers under that annoying shirt. Feeling how strong muscle play under the marble like skin of the other. Warmer now, so fucking smooth it hurts to touch. Too fucking perfect. How the hell did he get so lucky? To have this divine creature want him.. not for food, but for sex, dare he say love?
Yes, love.. because the other whispers it sweetly against his lips, almost like he could hear that fleeting thought. Could sense the doubt in him. The other’s voice husky in his ear, sending a new set of desperate shivers through him. TC wants the other so bad he is all but ready to cry..
Dracul gasps softly when clumsy fingers finally gets his pants undone, tugging them down, making his achingly hard dick spring out. He needs this so bad, to be close to this boy, this panting body pressing itself desperately against him. So, so easy to read. Like an open book. And so fucking responsive. Every little move he makes making the other react in one way or another.
He brings his hand around the other’s cock, letting his fingers caress the soft mushroom head, dipping a nail slightly into the slit, smearing precum down the hard length. Loving the way the other moans, rocking into his hand desperatly.
“Please… ” TCs voice sounds desperate, his hands gripping Draculs back, pressing him closer. “Please.. Dracul”
Dracul responds by growling softly, bringing their erections together, grinding down against the other. And oh gods! The feeling.. a perfect feeling surges throughout and inside him. He can’t help but moan before he catches the other’s mouth again, thrusting his tongue into the other, wrapping his hand around both erections.
And the feeling building up inside of him promises one hell of an orgasm, just from this.. frotting, rubbing, the feel of the other’s cock pulsing against his. It’s so fucking absurd. To be so close, just from this. But oh god, he is. So fucking close.
Suddenly the other’s tongue falls slack in his mouth, the cutest whine of his name slipping from kiss swollen lips, the breath escaping into his own open mouth. “D-DraaaHaacul!” The semen makes his hand slicker and he jerks a couple of times more before he has to clench his jaw shut, moaning low.. a broken hiss of the other’s name slipping from him as he comes hard in his hand, shooting salty strings over TC’s stomach and chest.
He lets out a heavy laugh as he slumps down, just bathing in the buzz running through him, smelling the other’s sweet skin. “I’m keeping you..”
TC whispers, the first thing that seeps into his head after the endorphins settles down a bit. Breathlessly into the others ear, “I never dreamt that I’d meet somebody like you.” And even though it’s the cheesiest thing ever, TC smiles and his heart swells when the other whispers, after a seconds hesitation, the other half into his ear. That wicked smile lacing the others voice with mirth. “And I never dreamt that I’d need somebody like you..”