First Hunger

Title: First Hunger – Chapter 9: Intoxication
Rating: PG-13, slash situations (male/male)
Disclaimer: Don’t own the Characters of "Van Helsing", this fic is only for entertainment-purposes and I make no profit of this
Warning: This chapter contains slash sex situations and blood drinking

Chapter 9: Intoxication

The applause of the crowd rolled like a deep drum through my ears and united with the heavy heartbeat of my victim, whose neck I hungrily clung to. I didn’t care how bizarre it must have looked: My body was sprawled out at the small stage, holding the naked form of the female dancer and squeezing her flesh as if to pump the blood out of her.
Dracula kneeled next to me, with a content smile on his face. He held the back of my head and slowly stroked my hair, while I took swallow after swallow of the woman’s blood. I can’t recall his murmured words to me; I only remember the silken and loving tone he used.

The dancer’s blood was astoundingly intoxicating. Every human’s blood has an overwhelming effect on us, but this woman’s lifeblood contained an extra flavor. A strange component that owned the potential to make a vampire generate an addiction towards it. It made me feel light-headed and satisfied.
Satisfaction turned into happiness. Dangerous happiness. I could feel that I lost all of my self-restraint, when I finally dropped the drained white body to the ground and let Dracula lead me through the crowd of the celebrating vampires.

With one arm around my waist, my maker made a beeline right through the vampires, who either congratulated him of having “Baby Gabriel” back or padded his shoulder and shot him nasty grins.
Just when we had reached the exit, a tall and dark figure approached Dracula and bowed before him:

“Milord, I would be honoured to offer you my private chambers for your…well-deserved rest.“ the vampire addressed Dracula, not without displaying a slight smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Lucien. It will be a pleasure for me to accept your kind offer.“ I heard my maker reply to Lucien’s invitation.

I studied Lucien as best as I could in my drugged state.
This must be one of the elder vampires of the society. Johanna had mentioned him.
Johanna…I suddenly wondered where she had disappeared. Inwardly I cursed her for bringing me here and exposing me to not only Dracula, but the whole immortal society of London as well.
I made a mental note to have a little chat with Johanna about this matter later.

Lucien stepped aside to let us pass. Dracula took my hand and dragged me up the stairs towards a rotten door. What was behind that ugly door almost took my breath away: The apartment looked exquisite, all furniture, carpets, paintings and more accessories were of the late 1800´s style and from what my inexperienced eye could tell, every piece was an original relict of that time.
I had lived in that time. But I never had been rich or decadent enough to decorate my place in such a pompous style.

Dracula practically had to carry me into the foyer of the large apartment. My limb body got even weaker with the shock of so much opulence, waiting for my entrance.
He threw me down on a scarlet divan and started to unbutton my heavy coat. I had put it on out of habit, to protect my body from the chilling London weather.

“Ah, Gabriel…“ Dracula said in a slightly annoyed tone, while struggling with one of the cheap, large buttons.

“You and your coat-fetish. I think we will have a critical look through your wardrobe, hmm?“ he continued and looked at me with raised brows. He didn’t really wait for an answer and went further to undress me with impatient moves.

I couldn’t suppress to quicken my breath slightly, when one of his knuckles brushed my crotch, once…twice.

“But we will focus on your clothing later…much later.“ Dracula amusedly commented my reaction on his touches and used one talented handle to rid me of my black shirt. I expected it to be soaked with sweat, but it was cold and dry. So were the hands of my maker, which touched my chest one and then.

My body started to respond and made me yearn for more of his seemingly accidental touches.
I slightly arched my back up in a silent plea to feel these cold hands on me again, but for a little longer than just mere moments. I was rewarded with a warm chuckle and a finger, trailing my bottom lip.

“Poor Gabriel. Starved, ravenous child. Look at you. You’re thin like a line.”
He stretched his words in a tormenting way and intentionally denied me his touch I so longed for.

“Then feed me.“ I heard my own voice hiss in an inhuman tone and bit down into his finger to catch a few drops of the precious blood that curses through our all master’s veins.

I heard him take a sharp breath and he let me suck on the wound for just a few seconds. Then he violently ripped his finger away from my mouth.

“You behave like you still do not know who your master is.“ he yelled at me, his Transylvanian accent fighting against London slang.

“You will only taste me when I allow it.“ Dracula emphasized and his sharp nails dug deeply into the exposed flesh of my arms.

I nodded obedient and whimpered at his rough way of touching me. He had drawn blood and his fingertips were wet with it. Finally, he loosened his iron grip on me to lick at the blood on his fingers.
Obviously, he had tasted my current fear and respect for him in the blood. The next thing he did was touching my chest with slow strokes, directing his hands towards the waistband of my black jeans.

The sexual tension rushed back into my head again and made me moan with anticipation when these – still gentle – hands started to work on the front of my trousers.
I wanted to give in the urge to throw my arms around the man in front of me, to bring him nearer and to feel his lips on mine. But I knew that Dracula would never allow this and so I patiently remained still, waiting for what was to come.

Our pace instantly became quicker when his right hand met the cold flesh of my sex. Our moves formed a symphony; my regular loud breathing, his moving hand on me, my upper body arching in need, his legs clasping my own ones…

I couldn’t believe what we were doing in this strange apartment, on this divan. I needed some proof, some confirmation. With Dracula’s hand in my jeans, I slowly turned my head to the right, where I memorized a large mirror hanging on the brocade wall. All my eyes could make out was the divan. Dracula himself would have slapped me in my stupidity of expecting a reflection, where no such image could exist.
But I saw the divan’s cushions, moving under both our weights. This image was proof enough and aroused me even more.

My maker did realize my attention towards the mirror without slapping me.

“What an ingenious idea, Gabriel. It could have been my own one.“ he said.

His next actions were incredible to express them in words.
He raised his free hand to touch my face. His sprawled hand gently touched my eyelids to shut them. His fingers moved down and released my face again. I was allowed to re-open my eyes and stare into the mirror again.

What I saw must have been a mere figment of my imagination. Right before my eyes the whole scenery of Dracula and me on the divan took shape. Although it scared me a little to see myself under Dracula in such an intimate situation, it was an incredibly beautiful image.
Dracula shot the mirror an evil grin and twisted his right hand in my jeans to make me moan in pleasure.

“Look at you, Gabriel. So beautiful…why do you want to waste your own beauty?“ he still had his eyes on what the mirror displayed.

“I….”, I wanted to disagree, wanted to tell him to stop talking and do something about my lust, that now had become painfully aching. But I never got the chance to finish my sentence, when he suddenly bent down and claimed my parted lips in a violent kiss.

I instinctively shut my eyes and all that remained were the sucking noises of his kiss, our hungry tongues fighting and my maker moaning into the cavity of my mouth.
His teeth grazed my tongue and he greedily sucked it into his mouth, while his hands had managed to release my painful erection. I was tempted to sigh in relief, but didn’t want to displease my master, while he was kissing me.

Skilled and experienced hands brought me to the heights of pleasure all too quickly. I felt his hungry eyes on me, when I climaxed long and hard. He grabbed my chin and turned my head towards the mirror for me to witness my own body, writhing in bliss. The fact that I hadn’t seen myself in a mirror for a whole century and the current scene filled my eyes with tears. Tears of pleasure. Tears of relief. I finally accepted my status, being the creation of Dracula.

My maker licked away the hot blood-trails that were my tears. He tucked me into a large blanket and lead me to the bathroom, where he made me a hot bath. I never knew of Dracula’s softer side until then.
He started to bathe me gently, taking good care of my body.
I enjoyed every minute, every touch like a spoiled child and didn’t protest when he tucked me in bed afterwards.

“Please stay with me”, I invitingly posed my naked body for him on the blankets. But he refused.
“The sun is ng. ng. Rest now”, was all he said. Then he turned to leave the bedroom.

He closed the door and I heard him lock it. Still excited that I was, I didn’t fall asleep for quite a time.
I could make out voices outside, in the foyer. Someone was talking to Vlad. It was Lucien.

“All went well, I presume?”

“A brilliant idea, Lucien. I wish it would have been mine”. This was Vlad´s voice.

“Yes, yes, mortals and drugs. Fatal to them, but eternally intoxicating for us…”, a low chuckle rumbled through Lucien’s voice.

“What did you give her?”

“A strong mix of Ecstasy and some heavy dosed fungi. Can do wonders to your body.”, Lucien almost choked on his own miserable joke.

“I will be grateful, rest assured…”, I heard Dracula’s purr and what followed then was silence.

My mind pulsed with rage and also jealousy. So they had betrayed me. HE had played me…Again.
And now he took this laughing stock of a vampire, Lucien, with him to bed.
The urge to leave this place, to flee hastily and never look back, crept up. I tried move my weak legs and get up from the large bed, but didn’t manage to make my body react to my commands.
The damned drugs still cursed through my body that additionally still was weak from my 100 years of rest.

I resigned to my fate for now, lay my head back with an angry sigh and thankfully drifted off to a coma-like
sleep…

To Be Continued…