His Prey (Gay Vampire Erotica)

by Twist,Tommy

  His Prey

  Gay Vampire Erotica

  Tommy Twist

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  Andrew Crane was 18 years old when he came out to his parents. He didn't come out spectacularly. He made no big scene, caused no drama. He didn't post a coming out video online, like his best friend had done.

  He simply pulled his mother and his father aside one day, and said it.

  “I'm gay,” he said, tugging at the sweater his grandmother bought him when he was sixteen. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized how much she might have hated him for this news. “I'm gay,” he repeated.

  His mother, Elizabeth, simply looked at him, her blue eyes apathetic and then worried. Her eyes slowly got wider, as did her mouth, until she turned to her husband with a truly horrified look on her face. Andrew? Her only son, her only child after a tragic miscarriage when she lost his sister, was gay? How could this possibly be? How could he do this to her?

  Eric Crane, a traditional man with traditional family values, was immediately a shade of red better suited for blood than a man. He shouted. Oh, how he shouted, about what a disappointment Andrew was. About how this must be a cruel joke, and attempt to torture his father and mother.

  But it wasn't. Andrew knew when he was 13 and watched his first porno online that he was attracted to men. He tried to hide it for so long, but there was no answer, no method to “fix” him. This was who he was.

  “Please! Please stop yelling at me!” He yelled, throwing his arms down to his sides, balled with fury. Sadness. He wished, harder than he had ever wished for something before, for them to understand. To find some way to accept him, to love him.

  But the yelling kept coming. And threats of physical violence, until finally Elizabeth shook herself out of her horror and slapped her son. She slapped him so hard that it would sting for a half hour after.

  He left their house that night, with most of his possessions. His friend, once a lover, promised that Andrew could stay on his couch for at least a week.

  A week. Hardly enough time to find a job, let alone get his own apartment. All seemed hopeless.

  It was sorrow and anxiety on his shoulders that Andrew carried to Victoire. A dark, Victorian themed club with gothic music, Victoire was the one safe haven for Andrew since he turned 16. Victoire was the only gay club within 300 miles.

  The things people wore to Victoire always fascinated Andrew. He bought himself a steampunk outfit, with a fake gun and copper buttons on his leather vest. His boots reached up to his knees, giving him a sort of army gentleman look. It always caught the eyes of other men while he danced.

  The others in the club wore black, or masquerade masks, or steampunk outfits of their own. The few lesbians wore elaborate gowns, even some of the butch lesbians. They were the most fun to drink with, and often had the best stories of past lovers and scorned lovers.

  On this night, though, Andrew felt a presence he couldn't quite put his fingers on. Something in the air, swirling around him with mysterious sensuality. He didn't understand until he finally locked onto the ice blue eyes watching him.

  They belonged to a somewhat older man, dressed in a top hat and tuxedo that was too well tailored to simply be a costume. His hair was blond, or maybe strawberry blond, and fell to his shoulders. His strong jaw clenched as he raised his eyebrows at Andrew.

  What was that? An invitation? Andrew was compelled forward, his feet moving him close to the beautiful older man with long blond hair. But why? Andrew was usually too shy to go near anyone who looked interested.

  But not today.

  “Hello, there.” The man sat back in his ornate chair, sipping a red wine. “Would you like to have a seat?”

  Andrew sat. His foot brushed up against the other man's, and sent a shiver down his spine. What was this strange feeling bubbling within him? Lust, maybe? Was Andrew simply too innocent to know this feeling?

  “What is your name?”

  “Andrew,” he said, though his voice sounded dreamy. He hadn't meant to answer so quickly, but he did.

  “My name is Criss. You looked lonely. Would you like some company?”

  Andrew nodded. Company sounded good, especially if it was this man. Criss. A normal name for such an abnormal person. Then again, maybe outside of this club, Criss was perfectly normal. Maybe he was a lawyer, or worked in an office.

  Something told Andrew that wasn't the case. Criss watched him with cold but curious eyes.

  “Tell me about yourself, Andrew. Tell me your life story.” His voice was so deep, strangely ethereal and mystical. Andrew wished he could hear this voice for all time.

  “I was just kicked out by my parents. For being gay. For some reason, I thought they might be able to accept me, but I was wrong. I lost all my friends from high school when I came out to them just before graduation, too.” Andrew wondered why the words came so easily, why he was speaking so freely with a stranger. “I've been lonely for such a long time. You were right, I could use some company. I'm sick of being alone, of being an outsider.”

  Andrew begged himself to stop revealing these dark secrets, these thoughts he kept to himself. Hell, he kept them from himself. He was good at avoiding, at denying himself pain as much as he had denied himself pleasure over the years.

  “You don't have to be alone tonight. Come with me, Andrew. Let me show you my home.” Criss held out his hand, and Andrew took it. It was cold, but not unpleasant. They left the club, Andrew's head swimming with erotic thoughts and tantalizing desires.

  Tonight would be the last night of denial.

  A short walk, hand in hand, led them to Criss's home. A large home on the outskirts of the city, it was a Germanic mansion with ivy crawling up the Western side and all windows dark.

  Guided by the moonlight, and Criss's tingling cold hand, Andrew stepped up to the front porch. As his host unlocked the door, Andrew looked around. The October wind blew a chill into his bones, and he instinctively leaned into Criss, but the strange man's body offered no heat.

  In an instant, the strange man's mouth was on Andrew's neck. He was pushed up against the door frame, halfway between the cold outside and the warm inside of the home. Andrew let out a meek mewl, a moan of surprise and pleasure, his hands gripping Criss's jacket.

  He pulled Andrew into his him, kicking the door shut behind them. Pulled close to Criss's body, in a deep embrace, Andrew could feel the man's cock struggling against his pants. The desire to be a slave for this cock overwhelmed Andrew. His hand stroked the hard bulge in Criss's pants, as his neck was kissed and licked.

  It all felt so heavenly that Andrew nearly had to choke back tears. How can one man create such a sense of belonging in someone?

  “Come with me, to my bedroom. There, I will show you that you don't have to be alone. No...You never have to be alone again, Andrew.”

  He turned and slowly ascended the stairs to the left of the front door. Andrew followed him, mesmerized. His hands were shaking with adrenaline, with fear, with lust. So many emotions, thoughts, and desires coursed through him, new feelings that he never experienced before.

  Candles lit up, seemingly spontaneously, as the men walked up the stairs and down a long hallway to Criss's bedroom. Were they electric? Andrew couldn't take his eyes off of Criss to check. They smelled real, as if each one with lit with a new match.

  Criss opened his bedroom door and allowed Andrew to walk through first. An opulent bed with silk red sheets, beautiful mahogany dressers, and a window that showed the full m
oon outside impressed Andrew deeply.

  “It's so romantic,” he said. His hand shifted across the silk sheets. “And beautiful.”

  Criss watched him with curiosity for a few moments, allowing the younger man to explore the room. It smelled of roses and, again, just-lit matches.

  To Criss, Andrew looked like a beautiful angel. His green eyes were so innocent that it hurt his heart to look into them.

  “Come here,” Criss said, his voice low and grumbly. “I want to touch your face.”

  Andrew moved closer to the older man, who removed his hat and set it on a mahogany table by the side of the bed. His hands then caressed Andrew's face. Andrew shut his eyes, allowing the softness of the touch to wash over him. Criss's hands were still cold, but so soft. So kind.

  “Do you want to taste me?” He asked. Andrew opened his eyes, considering the question before nodding slowly.

  “I do. I...”

  Criss gently pressed on his shoulders, guiding him to the floor. Andrew again rubbed his hands against the straining meat within Criss's pants. It seemed, somehow, even bigger than before. His mouth watered with anticipation.

  He grabbed the waist band of Criss's pants, sliding a finger along them until it got to the button. Undoing the fastener and unzipping the pants, Andrew pulled them to the floor.

  Then he pulled down Criss's underwear, easing them down against his erect cock. Andrew's own cock twitched as Criss's monster finally sprung free of his boxers. He touched the head of it, moving his fingers across the soft skin.

  Precum began to leak from the tip. Eagerly, Andrew lapped it up, enjoying the salty taste while Criss sucked in hard and placed his hand against Andrew's head. With an amount of innocence Criss did not expect, Andrew sloppily pleasured his cock. He did not know how to properly please a man, but his eagerness was promising.

  Moving with tenderness and joy, Andrew bobbed forward and back, his tongue flicking from the head of Criss's penis down to the base and his balls. Criss groaned, then forcefully pushed Andrew hard into his crotch. His nose was tickled by blond, curly pubic hairs. He couldn't breathe. He struggled, flailed, tried to move away. It wasn't until the world around him was dimming that Criss finally allowed his cock to come free from his throat, and Andrew to cough and catch his breath.

  “Do that again,” he said, his voice still hoarse. Criss chuckled and took his head in his hands again, fucking his face and his throat hard, as if he were a cheap whore. Perhaps that's what Andrew truly was.

  He liked it.

  His own cock was standing stiff, painfully so. He coughed and choked around Criss's dick, sucking and licking it when he could.

  “I don't want to cum down your throat,” Criss said. “Stand up.”

  Criss removed Andrew's clothes, throwing them to the side. Standing nude in front of this older man, Andrew felt insecure and childish, fully aware of his flaws.

  Criss only marveled at his beauty. “So pale, so lovely. Come to me. Press your body against mine, let me feel you against me.”

  Andrew stepped forward, into Criss's arms. He was still so cold, but the embrace was warm and his lips were, too. His tongue slipped between Andrew's lips as their cocks slid up against each other, both rock hard. Andrew's own saliva coated his cock now, making it slippery.

  Criss took it in his hand and stroked it. “So hard,” he moaned in Andrew's ear. “Turn around and bend over.”

  Andrew bent over, pressing his hands against the wall and spreading his legs wide. Criss's hands grabbed at his ass cheeks, spreading the globes wide and revealing his puckered asshole. He bent down and without any hesitation, pressed his tongue against the sphincter. It flickered, pressed, slid up and down and sent shivers up Andrew's spine.

  He was a moaning, groaning whore while Criss tongued his asshole. He spanked him hard on his ass as he pulled his tongue away. He pulled his bum apart again, and then his hard cock slid between his cheeks and pressed against Andrew's puckered anus.

  Criss pushed with a grunt and with a hard thrust, he was inside of Andrew. He wasted no time fucking him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back.

  “Ahh,” Andrew moaned. “It hurts!”

  “But you love it,” Criss replies with a thrust. It was true, Andrew was enjoying the pain as much as the pleasure. With every thrust, he was pushing his huge cock deeper into Andrew's ass. Finally, his balls began to slap against Andrew's balls.

  Andrew's cock swung below him, hard as fuck and ready to explode at any moment. Criss reached around and grabbed onto Andrew's swollen meat, and with a single stroke forced Andrew to cum harder than he ever had. His cum hits the wall, and then dribbles onto the floor and Andrew's thighs.

  “Mmm,” Andrew moaned. And with that moan, Criss exploded inside of him, with a new sensation Andrew had never felt before. He shuddered, and his cock became hard again. Aching, throbbing, desperate to be touched.

  Criss pulled out of Andrew's ass and spun him around and fell to his knees. With something akin to reverence, Criss took Andrew's cock into his mouth and sucked on him hard.

  With a hiss, Andrew leaned back against the wall and braced himself. Criss sucked him off so well, and made Andrew empty his balls down his throat. He swallowed it all, not a drop was wasted.

  Standing back up, Criss pulled Andrew into an embrace. Their lips mashed together, sloppy but passionate. A kiss that was more freeing than any he had experienced before. When they part, Criss leaned against Andrew, their cocks again touching together. Criss's breath was hot against Andrew's neck. Then his lips slid onto his skin, leaving a trail of saliva and kisses.

  Criss used one hand to cradle Andrew's head, and then pressed his face hard against his throat. Teeth. Pain. Pleasure. Heat, and then cold.

  “Are you… biting me?” Andrew asked, his eyes fluttering. Criss didn't answer. It felt like a bite, but so much more all at once. His hands and feet tingled, until the tingling traveled up his limbs and into his core.

  “Ah, it hurts...” Andrew whined, but Criss did not stop. Andrew felt as if he were being drawn into Criss. The world began to feel less real and more like a fever dream, more pleasurable than a fever dream but still strange. Like he was floating.

  Andrew felt so cold, and then so hot again. Criss finally pulled away from his neck, and Andrew saw that his mouth was covered with red. With blood? With his blood?

  Criss brought his wrist up to his own mouth, and bit into that, too. For some reason, this made Andrew laugh. Hard. He was laughing when Criss pressed his bleeding wrist against Andrew's mouth, and laughing as he took in the blood. Laughing. Laughing. The world going dark.

  “You will never be alone again, my pet.” He heard a voice. Criss's voice? “You are now one of us, one of the damned. Our family, our lover, our toy.”

  Andrew fell to one knee, trying to stay awake. His arms wrapped around Criss's hips, his face nuzzled into his pubic hair.

  He succumbed to the darkness.

  Many nights later, there was a soft glow from the windows of Criss's large house. The golden glow, the slight flicker of candles. A soft thump of electronic music, the chiming sound of laughter.

  Within the house, down a flight of spiraling stairs and in the cellar was a group of people. All pale. Some blond, some with black skin somehow pale and sickly. Women. Men. Those whose gender would otherwise be hard to tell, if not for the fact that they were naked.

  Their bodies moved and bumped against each other. Some were dancing, but many others were on the floor or on couches, writhing and exploring the bodies of others near them. Fingers in cunts, cocks in assholes. A true orgy.

  Deep laughter came from the center of this group. Eyes flash towards the new flesh, pale and thin, with a tattoo of an eye upon his chest. He was naked, too, and with a cock buried deep in his ass, he was being fucked hard. At the same time, his cock was being sucked.

  Andrew moaned, then laughed. “It tickles,” he said as the man sucking him off ran his fingers through his pubic hair. As he la
ughed again, Criss came over to him, his cock hard and throbbing. He straddled Andrew's chest and pressed his cock into his mouth.

  It slid down his throat, this time meeting no resistance because he had no need to breathe. Andrew had become the best cocksucker in the world since his transformation, and that wasn't the only perk of becoming a vampire. He was a part of a huge family, and everyone loved each other.

  This was the life Andrew wanted all along. One with plenty of sex, and acceptance, and community.

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