It was difficult to know what time it was. The vampires lived only by the constraints of daylight and night. The windows had all been boarded up so there was no clue from outside. But one thing was for sure, the sun was out, and if what he’d heard about vampires was true, they would all be resting now.
He stole along the corridor, taking care not to make the slightest noise, though he knew from experience that if the vampires were awake they would soon sense him the way they seemed to always know what had been going on in the dungeon. He opened one door after another, observing that the vampires slept not in coffins, as was the popular myth, but in great four-posted beds; a habit left over from a time when they had been human.
But how was he going to exact his revenge on them? Could he simply smash a window and let the sunshine pour in to do its work? That would work for one of them, but the howls of pain and the noise of the commotion that followed would draw the others. Then a thought occurred to him. He need not get rid of the entire clan, just Jasper and Vadim. They were the ones he wanted to destroy. They were the only ones that had to suffer for what had happened to Daniel. The others he would subdue. He might even decide to stay and become clan leader. There were so many things to think about, but he would ignore them all except for thoughts relating to avenging Daniel’s death.
As he made his way down the corridor, past paintings of ancestors, some dead and some forever trapped in a limbo between life and death, he noticed a coat of arms at the end of the hall. Beneath it, one crossed over the other, was a sword and an axe. It seemed fortuitous that he should find such objects when his very thoughts were of destroying the two vampires who had destroyed his lover. He flew to the end of the corridor, colliding gently with the wall; his powers were not yet fully under his control. The sound was no more than a dull thud but he took the time to stop and listen for signs of anyone stirring, hearing nothing but sounds of sleep coming from within the upstairs rooms. Safe in that knowledge, he reached up and unhooked first the axe and then the sword.
He opened the door closest to him, pushing it ajar just enough for him to see inside. The space beyond was dark but for the sliver of light that filtered in around him. Still it was enough for him to see that hanging upside down from a rail attached the ceiling, in the manner of the ancestors, was his first victim, Vadim. His great wings were wrapped around him so that only his pale head was visible. His feet were great claws that gripped the metal rod, locked on by a temporary paralysis that was triggered by the sleeping mechanism in his brain.
Karl crept up to the sleeping vampire and with one swing of the axe had his head off, sending it flying across the room where it hit the skirting board with a crack. Vadim’s body began to convulse and the great wings flapped frantically, but the claws of the vampire’s feet stayed clamped to the rail so that the body swung back and forth in a frenzied swinging motion. Streamers of blood splattered the floorboards and wallpapered walls.
Wasting no time, Karl ran across the hallway to the other bedroom which he suspected was Jasper’s. He burst into the room just as Jasper, awoken by the commotion in the other room, was unfurling his wings. He leapt at the clan leader, both hands swinging, but Jasper was too fast. As Karl took another swing, the vampire kicked the axe out of his hand with a force that spun him around on the spot. The vampire then levitated and swooped down, tearing three lines across the width of Karl’s face with his yellowed claws.
“You bastard!” he snarled. “I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Karl staggered back against the door, which he slammed shut and locked. It was only a thought but he wondered why the vampire didn’t keep it locked. Yet he had no time to ponder such trivialities. What did he care? He was grateful the vampire had been so careless. Jasper launched himself at Karl, though this time he was ready for him, swinging the mighty sword and slicing a great hole in the sensitive membrane of the vampire’s wing.
But the battle had not been won yet. Karl bounded across the bed, landing with bent knees and ready for another assault.
“You’ll pay for this!” growled Jasper, fingering the split in his wing before running at Karl with claws extended and fangs bared and gleaming.
Karl stood fast. Even when the vampire lowered his head, ready to ram Karl into the wall, he stood fast. It wasn’t until he could smell Jasper’s foul breath that he stepped to the side, brought the sword down on Jasper’s neck, and severed his head from his torso. The head bounced into a corner, where it spun for a while and then settled, while his body smashed through the thin wooden boards at the window, through the glass and out into the bright light of day where it disintegrated into a ball of flame before it reached the ground below.
Still, neither death brought Karl the feelings of satisfaction or elation he’d been anticipating. The deaths of Vadim and Jasper would not bring Daniel back. He was alone now; more alone than ever before. He could never go back to his family, nor see his friends again. He was a creature of the night now. He could only move in darkness, forever exiled from the warmth of the sun and of family.
The other vampires, who had been awakened by the noise, were banging and clawing at the door. A fist came through the thick wood and a beady black eye peered through, followed by a scream as a beam of daylight found it. More screams followed as other vampires peered through into the light-filled room to learn what had transpired in their leader’s sleeping quarters.
Karl unlocked the door and stepped out into the corridor. The throng awaiting him scratched and bit at him, a welcome he had fully expected.
“Wait!” he shouted, his voice deep and commanding.
He darted into Vadim’s room, retrieved the head, and marched back out again holding the dripping body part high.
“This is Vadim. The rest of him lies in there,” he said, gesturing with his head. “Jasper has been destroyed.” He tossed the head through the open door of Jasper’s room where it landed and burst into flames. He pulled the door shut after him. “I have destroyed your leaders, so I suggest that if you want to keep your heads, you listen to me.”
The snarls and growls slowly died away.
“I have no love for you, in fact you disgust me. But as I have lost all that I love and have nowhere else to go, I am prepared to make my home here.”
“And what makes you think that we won’t kill you in your sleep?” asked a handsome young vampire.
Karl lifted up a hand, fingers clawed, and immediately the man gripped his throat. As Karl brought his fingers together, the young vampire gasped and scratched at his throat to remove something that wasn’t there.
“Before your clan leader and his second died they gave me a powerful gift, one which I could use to destroy any or all of you. Don’t test me, for I promise that you shall lose. Further to this power, I have with me hatred. I will not tolerate the slightest disrespect from any one of you, for it will please me too much to end your misery.”
He could not say where the words were coming from. They poured from him like water over a cliff edge. In truth he didn’t know exactly what powers he had, though it was true he had powers he didn’t yet know about. Every now and again he became aware of something else he could do, be it hear the dull noise of his clan’s thoughts or smell the blood as something living meandered by outside in the daylight.
He released the young vampire from his psychic grip.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Samuel,” replied the vampire, rubbing his reddened throat.
“Samuel, why don’t you show me to your room? The night is still a few hours away and I am tired.”
Samuel escorted Karl into a room two doors down as the others melted back to their chambers.
“Now, Samuel, before we go to sleep how about you come over here and show me how well you can suck my cock. There could be benefits for you if you do it well enough.”
Samuel, realising that he had the opportunity for something great, took Karl’s cock and kissed the fleshy cockhead. His tongue circled the glans once, twice, and then he took the entire organ into his mouth.
Karl closed his eyes. There was a vague memory of someone else doing this, someone he used to care about, but his thoughts were cloudy and it could have all just been a dream.
The best sex I’ve ever had in my life has always been with men in the few hours after their having been bitten by a vampire, and this morning was no exception.
Luckily for my sex life, Stefano, my current boyfriend, works as a cater-waiter specializing in only the most elite vampiric soirées. He’s a toothsome morsel if I say so myself. His job consists of walking around the party dressed in a tiny black thong and large black boots, his oiled body gleaming in the candlelight to show off his chiseled musculature. He doesn’t carry a tray. When a guest wishes a drink, Stefano tilts his head to one side or the other and bares his neck.
When he’s working, Stefano always carries with him a list, which serves two purposes: on the one hand, it is the record of how much he’ll get paid for that night, depending on how many clients he’s served. But most importantly, it’s a historical record as well, since he began this job; a second drink by the same vampire is far more expensive than a first. And a third is, of course, forbidden, lest he lose his humanity and cross over to the undead side.
That morning when he came to the salon, he was still human, and his human urges were raging out of control.
“Ciao, bello,”
Efraim said, coquettish as ever, when Stefano burst through the front door with its sign, as was always the case at dawn, turned to
CLOSED.
Efraim is my lazy assistant, and any excuse to not work, like flirting with my boyfriend, is a welcome one for him.
“Caro, what are you doing here?” I called to my beloved, although I could guess. “I thought you were meeting me at the house.”
“I couldn’t wait,” Stefano said, sexual need making his voice even lower and huskier.
I didn’t even need to look over at Efraim to know he was blushing as Stefano continued moving toward me. I loved how my boyfriend inspired such lust and envy in most everyone, and also how quaintly faithful he was with regard to sex.
“You can go, Efraim,” I called out as Stefano grabbed me and pulled me toward the inner sanctum of the salon. “I’ll finish sweeping up. Lock the doors on your way out.”
Efraim would dawdle, I knew, trying to hear what was going on behind the curtain. Not that I cared much, I’ve always been quite an exhibitionist, which is partly how I gained my current prominence, but I also think it’s best to maintain the proper owner-employee relationship, and it’s one thing for him to hear me recount my sexual exploits with Stefano (or whomever) as I’m styling some vamp, and quite another to hear me squeal like a stuck pig while Stefano and I are in flagrante delicto.
Still, I try to support promising young gay men and help give them a leg up in this world, so I tolerated Efraim, even though he was such a lousy hairdresser I often wondered if he might not be straight (not even bisexual). It didn’t hurt that he had a cute butt and a pixie-ish sort of face that was easy on the eyes.
Stefano pulled me with him behind the curtain, not out of any prurience on his part, but because that’s where the best chair for him to fuck me in was situated. In the state he was in, Stefano would’ve done me on the ground in the middle of the public square if that’s where we were.
Being bitten by a vampire seems to do this to men.
I don’t know what it is, whether it’s the closeness to death, or undeath, that makes the body strive so for life and joy and pleasure, to banish the darkness that came so dangerously close. And sex has all these procreative aspects, even when diverted to homosexual ends, as in the case at hand; that doesn’t stop semen from being potent and indicative of potential, symbol of life itself.
I wonder sometimes if the being penetrated, that utter vulnerability, translates into a desire to penetrate in turn.
I’ve never asked whether women who are bitten are also horny immediately thereafter. Just not interested, I’m afraid. But one of these days, I’d ask Sophie to find out for me. She might even know already. I wouldn’t put it past her to have tried it herself.
I’d never myself been bitten. Perhaps I’m too close to the process of helping create their glamour for it to do anything for me—kind of how I imagine gynecologists must feel about the naked female form. But maybe those’re just my prejudices again.
On the other hand, I’ve never met a gay gynecologist, so perhaps behind the clinical detachment is a sated sexual obsessive. Who knows, maybe some men channel their S&M urges into certain arenas to make themselves productive, tax-paying members of society by becoming proctologists instead of spending their lives standing in front of a sling, sticking their fist up strangers’ assholes.
I’ve always had a better time in a sling than the proctologist’s office, but that’s another matter.
In my case, I’m a hairdresser, which is an eminently respectable profession for an effete homosexual such as myself, in addition to making me a socially productive member of society. I cater to an exclusively undead clientele, a small detail responsible for my transformation from a bookish science geek into my current position of social prominence, not to mention a high tax bracket. My career began innocently one day in high school biology class, when we learned that hair and nails continue to grow even after death. It seemed quite obvious to me that this meant that vampires, additionally afflicted by their not casting a reflection in mirrors, would need to turn to someone else to keep themselves immaculately groomed.