Cherub - vampire slash
For starters, I'll post up my vampire story :)
It contains blood, gore, violence, sex and all that other yummy stuff you associate with vampires, so be warned.The main character is also a complete and utter jerk.
Cherub
"Undress. Do it slowly."
His voice was quiet and almost soft, but with a subtle hint of authority layered into it, and his eyes raked over the body of the one standing before him. He felt pleased with what he saw in the young male who was staring at him with glassy, blue eyes; his own glowed slightly with anticipation at what was to come. It was a surging feeling, one that built at a slow, steady pace- whitish blue at first, growing ever darker until the red haze would cloud his vision and colour everything for him.
The room was dinky; old, worn down and dirty.
It was such a sharp contrast to the brilliant youth that stood before the bed he was sitting on, he could not help but smile to himself because it was silly. Silly him for bringing this beautiful creature here, to a place so dusty and dirty that it would offend any human. But the youth had neither said a word nor shown him any expression of disgust. In fact, he hadn't seen a single change on the beautiful, passive face that had attracted him to this boy in the first place.
It had been mere coincidence that they crossed paths a couple of nights ago. The boy had been standing there on the side walk, seemingly waiting for something, when their eyes met. And his had been a luminescent, purple glow, the aftermath of the nutrition he had forcefully taken minutes earlier in a room exactly like this, from another foolish youth who had strayed from his path and fallen into the trap.
And although his hunger had been sated, fire had burned in his throat the moment he laid eyes on the sweet, sweet creature with the blackest and softest of curls upon his forehead that he had ever wanted to touch. The vacant, blue eyes had held his own for merely a second, hardly even that, but it had been more than enough for him to marvel at the beauty of the pink, babyish cheeks that belonged to a cherub, the lush, puckered lips that were parted hesitantly, the long eyelashes that touched skin when the eyes closed.
The temptation had been far too great for him to stay away.
For what reason should he have done so, anyway? Marcus was his own master and lord; he bowed to no one. And truly, there was no one strong enough to bend his knees and neck to their own will.
He watched, hungrily, as the youth's hands gripped the hem of his white t-shirt and began to pull it over his head. The movement was deliberately slow, as demanded, and Marcus felt his blood coil and rush faster within his cold, hard body (but truthfully, no such thing happened). Inch by inch of marble white skin was exposed to his searching eyes, and so in awe was he that he for a moment forgot to draw his breath to maintain the illusion of being alive.
Something familiar tightened inside his chest and made his fingers twitch beyond his control. He held onto it tightly to keep it at bay, not allowing (or trusting) himself to feel too much just yet. Not yet. There was so much to savour first, and Marcus wanted to savour it all properly before it slipped between his fingers like grains of sand.
The t-shirt fell to the floor with a soft sound, barely noticeable for human ears, but almost deafening to Marcus when he was listening to intently. He didn't flinch though, for his attention was solely on the boy's thin, white torso. The skin was stretched tight over the bones, almost no muscle present at all, and he wondered briefly why this beautiful creature, this cherub of nearly fifteen, was so frail and weak that it made him want to feel pity on the boy's behalf.
But Marcus felt no such thing; he hadn't done so for a long time now, and old habits were hard to kill, so to speak. All he felt while he eyed the fragile body up and down was the rush of blood through veins; accompanied by the sound of a beating heart that did not belong to himself. It was such a familiar, yet strange sound- knowing that just an arm's length away from him there was a heart pumping blood through a living body, trying to keep it alive at any cost. Marcus reveled at the wonderful sound that reminded him so much of all the hearts that had stopped beating at his touch.
Soon enough this one would too.
"Drop the pants," he said slowly, "I want you on the bed."
The boy spoke not a single word or made any gesture at all that he'd heard the demand, but his fingers fumbled with the buttons and the zipper and undid it all. The pants fell down his narrow hips and pooled on the floor. There was no underwear. Marcus' eyes roamed now; feasted on the display of such white, warm and soft skin and the dark curls of pubic hair that surrounded the boy's sex. It was flaccid against the boy's inner thigh, looking small and thin, just like the rest of him. And the blue eyes were watchful and wary while they stared at him, still as vacant as they had been all evening.
The excitement was almost more than Marcus could handle, and the much too human, much to warm and appealing scent that came from the boy's skin did little to help him hold onto his control. It was an odd fragrance, unlike any he had smelled before, and he found that it made his mouth water at the thought of tasting that skin with his tongue.
His will was the only thing that held his hands in place, curled around the edge of the wooden bed, while the youth took a step forward and climbed onto the mattress beside him. Marcus completely halted his breathing, acutely aware of the silence within his own body as he did, and his eyes followed the lithe body while it came to rest on its back against the matted sheets. The blue eyes were open, not displaying fear or uncertainty. Or anything much at all, really, Marcus thought dryly.
Fingertips touched his hand lightly and brushed over his knuckles, and the touch startled Marcus so that breath sizzled through his teeth in a hiss while he withdrew his hand with impossible speed. He realized his mistake the moment the movement was made, disappointed in himself for being thoughtless for even a fraction of a second. Now the little cherub would gape at him, stare with unbelieving eyes, and Marcus would have to end the little game already. It was not uncommon, even for someone as cold and hard as himself. His hands became tight fists by his thighs, nails grew out and became sharper, cutting into the wood and the sheets. He readied himself for the strike.
But nothing happened.
There was no shocked surprise at his impossibly fast movement, no fretting or attempt to escape before death hit. The youth merely regarded him with those same, unsettling eyes that didn't seem to feel a thing, and Marcus felt the tension slowly ebb from his muscles. He was puzzled beyond words at this reaction, just couldn't understand how anyone could take it so calmly, but it only served to deepen the attraction he felt towards the strange, beautiful boy.
"Do not move," he warned, and the moment the words slipped from his tongue he felt irritated with himself for saying them. Why should he make warnings when the boy lay here willingly, submissively, even though he was aware that Marcus was not exactly human? But it was true that just a single movement now could get the boy killed, and Marcus didn't want that comfortable, thudding sound of the cherub's heart to stop just yet.
He set his knees against either side of the boy and hovered over him. They were so close now; Marcus could taste the thick scent of salt and blood in the air and space between them, and unconsciously his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. His vision was growing darker, hazier, growing closer to the all-consuming red pleasure that he longed for. Closer now to the place he longed to be. The only place where his dead heart was truly at ease.
The boy laid unmoving beneath him when he lowered himself onto him. Their chests touched, clothes against a naked frame, and the friction felt too hot and annoying against Marcus' skin. His sharpened nails dug into the fabric of his thin, blue jacket and tore it right off along with the t-shirt he wore. The seams broke and ripped, but Marcus had already stopped thinking about his clothes when they hit the floor. When he lowered himself again now he felt tingles surge through his cold, white skin, small ripples of pleasure from wherever the boy's hot, human skin scorched his own. It burned pleasantly, warming his long dead body in a way that only blood could do better, and he held his breath all the while. His hand was slow when it touched the top of the boy's dark head, fingers flexing and curling into the curls that felt indescribably soft and fair. One wrong movement and he could break this fragile thing that shared the bed with him. Only one, and he might end up breaking the boy's skull with his strength.
He closed his eyes when his nose bumped a shoulder. Finally he drew his breath, more out of habit than anything else, and the scent once again overwhelmed him for a moment, making his throat burn with a pulsating ache that could only be satisfied in one manner. He held so tightly onto his sense of will power and self that it grounded him again. The scent made his nostrils flare and breathe in deeply. A small moan rose at the back of his throat.
The blood was pulsing and running just beneath the stretched, pale skin he was touching, and his body tensed with each beat of the oddly calm heart that pumped it throughout the body. His bottom lip quivered slightly when he touched it to the boy's fair skin and tasted the salt and perspiration there. So human, he thought, amused that some things never changed. His tongue slipped out past his lips and licked at the naked skin. Inside his mouth his canines throbbed and elongated slowly, because he willed them to do so. The hand in the boy's hair tightened and pulled hard, earning a little gasp from him, which sent a shiver through Marcus.
"Do you not fear me?" he asked softly, still with the same edge to his voice that could make grown men cower, beg or plead at his feet. He raised his head, trying to assess the look on the angelic face, but there was nothing for him to read.
"No."
Marcus growled then and yanked hard at the hair. The boy's eyes fell shut in response, and he shuddered, but not in fright. This was silly, he thought. He was playing around by being gentle when he really just should have taken what he wanted. He rose to his knees, and the hand he had fisted in the dark hair forced the boy to rise along with him. The blue eyes bore into his. Marcus slapped him across the cheek for his insolence, and the white skin became red and irritated.
"Foolish child! You can tell what I am!" he sneered.
The anger was spreading through his system now, urging the red haze on quicker, bringing him there so much faster. The edges of his vision were already tinted crimson, and his upper jaw ached dully now that the canines were fully elongated. He felt a droplet on his lip, and once he realized that it was his venom that was dripping from the prolonged canines he clamped his mouth shut and drew the boy closer in a tight hug. His face was cradled against the thin neck and shoulder, pressing as close as possible while the warmth burned his own torso. The scent burned his mouth and throat also; craving satisfaction, craving the hot, red liquid that was so close and so easy to take.
He let go of the boy's hair, patting it twice before he let the hand slid down the bony back and over the ass. In his arms he felt the boy stiffen and bite his lip when Marcus' hand wrapped around his half erect sex and began to stroke it. It was the first pleasant response he had gotten all night, and so he stroked the boy so slowly and teasingly that it must be torturous. Marcus' lips were pressing light kisses to the boy's neck, barely lingering enough to touch the skin before moving over to another spot. The tips of his canines protruded from his mouth even when he pressed his lips into a tight, thin line, and tiny drops of venom were left behind and smothered across the skin. Marcus knew it would leave the shoulder and neck feeling numb; the venom of his kind had a paralyzing effect on humans. All to make it easier to drain their prey without resistance.
A soft moan, almost a mewl, came from the boy, and Marcus felt the narrow hips thrust forward into the circle of his hand. A smug sense of pleasure rose in Marcus at that; he felt victorious for making such a passive boy respond to his touch. But then again, which human could deny the effect his kind had on them? It was something he had yet to see. He rocked along with the boy, moving with him while his lush mouth opened and closed and the teeth nibbled on the sore bottom lip, even though his body could not respond physically to the sexual excitement in his hungry state.
The red seeped into the center of his vision, clouding it and leaving a thick film over his eyes, colouring the pupils a glowing, dark purple. Marcus felt the boy's climax approaching quickly.
The line was crossed the second the boy's thin arms clutched him hard and sticky, white liquid covered the hand that stroked him. Marcus opened his mouth wide while shudders rippled through the boy, unable to hold onto the last shreds of himself any longer, and his canines plunged deeply into the neck, piercing the jugular by instinct. Venom was pumped into the boy's blood stream, leaving him unable to move any of his limbs if he were to resist. The vein was torn open, spurting a thick spray of blood into his mouth. The heart that was beating rapidly still from the climax emptied the body faster, and Marcus sucked hard, coveting every drop of the precious, precious liquid.
There was no place better than this; nothing that could make him feel so utterly and completely at ease with himself. There was no ecstasy better than this.
He took no notice of how limp the body grew in his arms or how the boy began to gasp for air. He never noticed the fingers that dug weakly into his back while he drank greedily. He never heard the bones that cracked as he held the fragile body just a little too tightly in his embrace.
Memories flashed before Marcus' eyes- fragmented and meaningless in the frenzy of bloodlust, but as soon as the spurt of blood became nothing but a drizzle, a weak flow that barely gave him a mouthful, he began to grasp his own self again. The red haze lifted from his vision- he could see and breathe freely again. Blood dripped from his chin onto the ravished throat, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand, which he then licked to ensure that he'd gotten it all.
He became aware of the very faint 'thuds' of the still beating heart and the shaky, shallow breaths the boy was drawing now, and a calm ease came over him as he lowered him to the bed. The blue eyes were almost closed, eyelids twitching in a struggle to keep them open. It was a lost cause; Marcus had drained the little cherub to the point of death, and the smallest of smiles touched his lips when he thought this.
"You knew," he whispered.
The boy's lips moved, but no sound came from them. Inside the broken ribcage the heart began slowing down, and Marcus again felt that he should pity this pretty thing that tried so hard in his last few seconds to speak, but could not. He decided to be merciful, for even though nothing had been able to sway his heart for a long time, this human boy had touched him, if only lightly. He lowered his face to the boy's and pressed a finger against the parted lips.
"Shhh," he hushed with a soft smile.
Marcus felt his own lips tingle as they pressed against those of the boy, and the smiled wider when he felt that the other was trying to respond to his kiss even as he was dying. The boy was cold and passive underneath him, for Marcus had stolen his warmth and made it his own for his own pleasure. For his own survival.
And when the tired heart finally stopped Marcus broke the kiss and rose from the bed. The blue eyes were only half closed- they stared through him without seeing anything, and it wasn't really such a large difference from when they had looked at him.
"Poor, pretty thing," he chuckled and blew the corpse a kiss.
Marcus stopped in the doorway after he'd gathered his jacket and put the remains back on, stopped for just a moment to look over his shoulder at the still body on the bed with the dark curls that surrounded the childish, vacant face.
"Sleep well."
The smile on his face had never been wider as he descended the stairs and stepped out into the street.
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I'm far too obsessed with vampires for my own good T.T