He glanced up at Bleu, seeking… reassurance, perhaps? Permission?
The vampire leaned back on the bed, braced on his hands. “Do whatever you want, Blacque. Suck me. Lick me. Touch me.” His eyes were closed, and in spite of his gentle tone, a tremor ran down his body. Blacque reached up and pushed the black T-shirt up Bleu’s belly.
The vampire was lean as whipcord. His muscles were flat and sleek under his skin. Blacque supposed he normally carried more weight, as he could clearly see ribs and the lines of his hipbones. His skin was pale and unmarked. He kept pushing at the shirt until Bleu sat up and pulled it off over his head. He looked surprisingly young here in the dim light of the tiny lamp.
“How old were you…?” He faltered, uncertain if he should ask the question.
“When I was turned?” Blacque nodded wordlessly. “Not yet twenty-two. I was a young soldier facing death.” He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke. “I was in a field hospital. My injuries were not fatal, but they became infected. My maker turned me on my last breath.”
Blacque trailed roughened hands down the vampire’s belly, then slipped his fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, he tugged them down. Bleu’s cock emerged from the fabric. He sat back and stared breathlessly. It was thick and long with a slight curve to the left. Jet-black hair curled around the ruddy base. He was uncut; the flushed head emerged from the folds of his foreskin.
Blacque swallowed and worked the jeans off Bleu’s legs, cursing softly as he came to his boots. Those came off easily, and soon enough the vampire lay naked before him.
He looked oddly romantic. The softness of youth had never fully left his face, and Bleu had the fragile, drawn look of the starving artist or dying poet. Nudity truly was the great equalizer. He no longer looked like a tough man who hunted in bars—he looked beautiful. His mouth was soft. His black hair grew back from a widow’s peak. His nose was aristocratic. For the first time, Blacque realized the vampire had only the barest hint of facial hair on his upper lip. He’d been little more than a youth when he’d been turned. He knelt again and ran his hands up the front of Bleu’s thighs.
“When…?”
Bleu understood. “Nineteen seventeen. Ypres, Belgium.”
He’d been turned during the First World War.
Blacque looked up the length of him, at the slender body, the beautifully swollen shaft and rounded balls. Instead of speaking, he lowered his head and tentatively dragged his tongue along the seam between thigh and testicles. His own body responded as though he’d been the one touched. He reached down and fondled himself through the heavy fabric of his jeans. With his other hand, he steadied Bleu’s shaft and softly skimmed his mouth over it.
There’d been times when he’d ordered porn on a hotel television. He’d seen the act, but when he slid Bleu’s cock into his mouth, he choked and gagged. He felt a hand on his head, pulling him back slightly.
“It takes practice, Blacque. Hold down at the base…take a little at a time.”
He tried again, using his fist to control the depth. To his satisfaction, Bleu grunted and rolled his hips a little. Blacque cupped the vampire’s balls and pulled them away from his body. He tasted the salt of precum on his tongue, and his mouth watered in anticipation. The vampire’s hips jerked, and fierce pride flooded him. He was on his knees, but he was in control. It was a heady sensation.
When Bleu halted him, he growled in protest. But he obeyed.
“Come up here, pup.”
Blacque stared but saw that Bleu wasn’t making fun of him, so he decided not to take offense. He crawled full-length up the vampire’s body. In one smooth move, he found himself on his back with Bleu covering him from head to foot. The vampire liked to kiss, and he proceeded to devastate Blacque with lips and tongue and teeth. Their torsos flexed, hips grinding against hips. When the kiss broke, the other man began nipping at his chest, leaving hot, fiery trails on his skin. He tugged at the bars in Blacque’s nipples while his hand stroked lower, then fumbled at his fly. Blacque lifted his hips, letting the jeans slide down over his ass. He didn’t bother with his heavy boots, and Bleu didn’t seem to be inclined to finish undressing him.
And then he was loose and free, his dick lying heavy and hot on his belly. He heard the vampire hiss and knew that he was looking…that he saw what Blacque had done to himself.
“Fuck, Blacque! How much metal do you have down here?” A cool hand cupped his balls and sought out the numerous piercings that studded his genitals. “How much gold do you have on your body?” Blacque moaned as Bleu found the Prince Albert, lacing the tip of his tongue through the hoop. The tug at his glans gave him just the right amount of bite. One hand moved up his belly and pulled at the barbell through his nipple as a warm, wet mouth swallowed his cock.
He gasped at the sensation. A wet finger probed at his ass. He clenched and gritted his teeth at the pressure. He began spouting inane expletives as he thrashed and rolled against the sensations that were overwhelming him.
Bleu quickly caught on to his taste for pain and dragged his teeth down the fine skin of Blacque’s cock. His finger tunneled deeper into Blacque’s ass, thrusting and retreating.
“You are so tight, so absolutely fucking hot!” Bleu tugged at a loop on his scrotum and returned to the piercing at the tip of his cock.
“I’m close,” Blacque managed to gasp. In response, a strong hand grasped him at the base. He was back in Bleu’s mouth, and the vampire was moving with intent now, faster, swallowing him down and holding him in his throat for endless, blissful moments. His long finger pumped into Blacque’s ass, hitting the hot spot just enough to make him flex his back, desperate for more.
Wildly he looked down at Bleu. Watching him deep throat his cock just sent him over the edge. He clenched his fists in the comforter and thrust up into the vampire’s mouth, feeling his seed burst forth in a scalding wave. He came, and then he came some more, making up for years of lonesome celibacy in one blissful, glorious climax. He cried out as Bleu’s mouth worked him, sucking and lapping up the semen that had escaped his lips.
Bleu rose to his knees and straddled his hips, pumping his cock frantically. Blacque reached up and covered Bleu’s hands with his own just before the warm, sticky fluid burst through their joined fingers. Bleu rode him, thrusting through the tunnel of their hands, looking every bit as overwhelmed as Blacque felt.
Maybe that was always the way it was with sex. Maybe that was why every man he knew was thinking about fucking every other minute of the day.
Surely it had nothing to do with the ailing vampire who was now draped over his body, pressing soft kisses to his skin.
God, I hope he doesn’t want to cuddle.
Blacque was just not the cuddling type. Wolves generally needed a great deal of touching, but too much contact made Blacque feel vulnerable. Another trait that separated him from the pack.
To his relief, the vampire sighed and rolled away to collapse onto his back. They didn’t speak. The only sound was the laboring of their breath. Oddly the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, and Blacque felt his heart slow to normal. His breathing steadied, and the world hadn’t come to an end because he’d just had sex with another man. He closed his eyes and felt something like a smile cross his lips.
Bleu’s hand brushed his, and when Blacque drifted into a fuzzy state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, their fingers were loosely laced together.
Chapter 4
Blacque woke to find his nose buried in the surprisingly smooth neck of another person…another man. Alarm shot through his body, and he held perfectly still, not willing to risk waking the vampire. Bleu’s chest rose and fell steadily. He was asleep, but it might be only light, normal sleep. Carefully he brought his arm up to check the time. It was still an hour from dawn. The vampire wasn’t yet out for the day.
Blacque evaluated his condition. He caught the musky scent of semen on his skin, both his and Bleu’s. So that part wasn’t a dream. If that really ha
ppened, nothing else really mattered, did it? It was one of those moments when a man knows he’s crossed a line and there’s no turning back.
Carefully he eased back, moving away from the other man, then rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling in the dim light from the cheap lamp. He’d been with this man twice. It had been voluntary, no seduction involved. Dismay and delight warred in his gut. His dick grew hard as iron and slid up to rest on his belly once again. Obviously his body opted for delight, though he was still dismayed at his weakness.
Bleu had made it easy. He’d quickly found Blacque’s buttons and pushed them all. He reached up and laid his hand over his eyes. Saying no had never even crossed his mind.
What a cluster fuck.
He rolled his head to look at the sleeping man next to him and found blue eyes open and gazing at him.
“Buyer’s remorse, Blacque?”
He thought about it for a moment.
“No. I’m not sorry. Guess now I know for sure.” Hell, he’d always known. Now he simply knew what he’d been missing. He rolled to his side and finally succumbed to the temptation to touch Bleu’s skin. It seemed smoother now, especially the spot on his face that had appeared rough and scarred. He watched his hand as it drifted and then settled on the center of the vampire’s chest. He felt Bleu’s heart beating strong and steady.
“Thought vamps didn’t have a heartbeat.”
“Myth. We also need to breathe. And we aren’t immortal, though like you, we are long-lived.”
“Hmm.” Blacque had dozens of thoughts whirling around in his head but didn’t really know where to start. As a rule, if in doubt, keep your mouth shut. That had always worked for him. But still, he was curious.
“What happens? When the sun comes up?”
“Well, I don’t die, though it might appear so.” Bleu rested his head on his arm. “I suppose it’s like hibernation. The body goes completely dormant. If we are attached to monitors, they would show no heartbeat and very low brainwave activity. The sun is to me what silver is to you. It won’t turn me to ash, but it is painful.” Bleu closed his eyes. “You are welcome to stay after I sleep, though you might find it disturbing.” Even though he’d been sleeping, he looked weary. He had surprisingly long eyelashes, like a woman’s should be. They lay in a dark crescent over the shadows under his eyes.
“Blacque, can I come to you when the sun sets?” For just a moment, the vampire looked uncertain and oddly vulnerable. His eyes remained closed, but one arched brow rose just a bit.
He took a moment to consider Bleu’s request. “First I wanted to say no. This is too dangerous. Not just to me.” He looked away from the vampire. “You need blood.”
The other man swallowed hard. He opened his eyes. “Yes. But that isn’t the only reason I want you.”
The whispered confession brought blood flooding back to his cock, and looking down, he saw that Bleu was reacting the same way.
“This is so bad. So bad for us both.” Blacque rolled over and pinned the vampire onto his back. He looked down for a moment, studying those blue, blue eyes. Carefully he leaned down and pressed his lips to Bleu’s.
He’d never kissed someone before, not like this, and not on his own initiative. He held very still, uncertain of what to do next. The rough tip of Bleu’s tongue slid over his lips, and he automatically responded, opening his mouth and letting Bleu in. He angled his head slightly, feeling the press of lips and the click of teeth. He swept his tongue into the vampire’s mouth, touching, tasting, and finally retreating, stopping to catch Bleu’s lower lip. He nipped and then sucked it between his own lips.
To his delight, Bleu gasped and reached up to cradle his head. The vampire’s response gave him courage, so he continued, tasting Bleu’s jaw, his throat. His ran his lips over rough patches and then smooth. He wondered what had been harsh enough to have scarred the vampire. He didn’t remember those marks being there even six months ago.
Finally Bleu clasped his shoulders and held him away from his body. “It’s nearly time. I don’t want to drop off in the middle of anything.” He grinned. “Can you hold that thought till tonight?”
Blacque rose to kneel next to Bleu’s naked form. As he watched, the vampire’s erection faded, the flush that had suffused his skin beginning to pale.
“Can I come to you tonight, Blacque?”
He struggled to think with his brain rather than his dick. Closing his eyes, Blacque scented the air, remembering the fantastic events of the hours just past. He wanted more—desperately. For the first time in years, he felt he’d connected with another being.
But it was dangerous. Foolish. Once the alpha announced his intention to call Lukas Blacque his heir, he’d be under constant scrutiny. Challenges would soon begin at unexpected times and locations.
“This is such a bad time to start this.”
Bleu didn’t answer. He didn’t try to mesmerize or charm or seduce. He simply watched Blacque’s face.
“I can give you…us a weekend. Tonight. Tomorrow night. Then it’s got to end.” He wondered if it was his imagination, but he thought he briefly saw a devastated look in Bleu’s eyes. It was too soon for emotion, wasn’t it? Things didn’t really move this fast.
“I’ll take what I can, Blacque. And I thank you for it.” He swallowed, and Blacque watched the movement of his Adam’s apple. “I…”
Blacque leaned forward to hear what he was saying, but the vampire had gone still. He watched for a moment and then pulled the bedding out from under Bleu’s supine body. He threw the comforter over the vampire and then slid into bed beside him.
He didn’t know if vampires felt the cold, but he did, and if he could, he’d keep Oliver Bleu warm as he dreamed. Just for a little while, anyway.
Vampires don’t dream when they sleep…or they shouldn’t. There was too much violence and savagery in Bleu’s life to wish to recall. It had been such a long time since he’d contemplated a future beyond his next meal and finding a spot safe from the sun when he collapsed for the day. With the warmth of Blacque’s body there by his side, he’d slept as a human for an hour or two. He’d dreamed of the young days—childhood days when he’d run out in the grass and shade his eyes against the sun, watching soldiers parade through the town in their brilliant uniforms of red and blue.
He recalled meals at the family table, the laughter of his mother, and his father’s stern presence. He remembered the slight softening of his father’s expression as he looked at his beloved wife. Bleu remembered the feel of the sun on his skin and good food in his belly.
The sleep of the vampire is dark and still. It isn’t death as many believe. When a human or vampire truly dies, the spirit flees; the cells of the body break down and disintegrate.
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold…
Without that temporary respite, the body of the vampire begins to slowly die. The powers that set it apart as a predator begin to weaken, and with agonizing slowness, life begins to fade as starvation sets in.
Bleu was locked in the paralysis of daysleep, and when the dreams came, he was helpless before them. In his mind, he struggled, trying to flee the noxious, oily cloud of gas creeping through the knee-deep mud of the trenches. He tried to run, but the gas was in the very mud that held him fast. It dissolved on his skin, settled on his inner thighs and scrotum. Blisters rose, and he choked, unable to breathe past the fluid gathering in his lungs…
You’re safe. I’m here with you.
The voice came from so very far away. A deep, gruff voice. A hand clasped his and pulled him up from the mud and out of the trench. The blast of mortar shells faded, as did the screams of the dying.
Warmth that was foreign wrapped around him, and with a sigh, Bleu slipped away into blackness and oblivion. His belly was full, his body was sated, and he was warm. The trenches of Ypres were thousands of miles and nearly a century away.
Blacque was awakened by the most subtle of warnings. Next to him, Bleu was still and cold, yet the st
ench of fear radiated from him. Under his closed eyelids, his eyes rolled rapidly. As he watched, blisters rose on Bleu’s skin, vile and poisonous in appearance. They trailed from the left side of his beautiful mouth down to his neck. His eyes were red and oily looking. Blacque sat up and threw back the bedding, and he cursed at the painful-looking burns that peppered the vampire’s body.
Blisters the size of Ping-Pong balls rose on the tender skin of his groin. His legs were covered with ooze. Blacque scoured his memory for World War One. Bleu said he’d died in Ypres.
Mustard gas.
As he watched, some of the blisters faded back into his body, while others rose like a ghastly stop-action film. The vampire was having the flashback to end them all. Unable to find a spot on his body that seemed safe to touch, Blacque clasped his hand and whispered to Bleu, telling him of safety and warmth. He stroked the dusky hair back from his forehead and moved close, sharing his body heat.
The vampire took a shallow breath that gurgled in his chest. Had he inhaled the stuff too? His throat tightened at the thought of the agony that Bleu must have suffered along with countless other young men. Mustard gas was heavy. It eventually settled to the ground like an oily, caustic trap that the soldiers had been unable to avoid.
The nightmare eventually released Bleu from its grip, and as Blacque watched, the blisters smoothed away; the rough patches around his mouth faded. When he was no longer afraid of hurting the other man, Blacque smoothed his hands over his skin soothingly. If the vampire could dream, perhaps he could sense his presence.
“Don’t dream anymore, Bleu. Just sleep.”
To his relief, that was exactly what the vampire did.
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